Inception
by Animejessi
Summary: "What do you know about Dazai? Huh?" Chuuya watched as Kunikida's glared faltered slightly, losing some of his conviction in the accusing words he had just spat at Chuuya as he pressed on, "Did you know the reason he always tries to kill himself by drowning is because he can't swim? Or that he tried to do it yesterday and you weren't there to stop it?"
1. Inception

The first time Ranpo laid eyes on Osamu Dazai, he knew something horrible had happened to him. He had this... dead look in his eyes. Like he had been through hell and couldn't figure out how to crawl his way back out of it. Even when he smiled, the empty look never faded from his chocolate-colored eyes and Ranpo could clearly see that every emotion he displayed to the world was simply a show he put on. None of it was real, but at the same time, Ranpo could also see how desperately Dazai wished that it was; how much he wanted to feel _something_.

It couldn't be easy to live life without feeling anything genuine. To have to fake everything. It was probably this emptiness that caused Dazai's desire for his own death.

Mostly Ranpo just felt sad for Dazai. He didn't want to think about what he must have went through to lose all sense of emotion and feeling. He knew if he thought hard enough—looked close enough—he could get a pretty good idea, but that wasn't something Ranpo wanted to have at the back of his mind every time he looked at Dazai, so he let it go.

Still though, he watched Dazai curiously. Every time Dazai pulled a prank or did something crazy, every time Dazai sounded like he was genuinely laughing, Ranpo would check to see if finally Dazai had some life in his dead eyes, but to no avail. He saw how Dazai froze up momentarily every time someone touched him, as though anticipating pain from even the simplest contact. As though that was the only reason someone would _want_ to touch him.

And most of all, Ranpo saw the rare, brief moments his mask would slip when no one else was looking and Dazai's face would go completely blank, matching the emotionlessness of his eyes. He looked so lonely at those times—and Ranpo knew it was with emthat/em expression he tried to kill himself—that Ranpo thought maybe it would be better for Dazai if he did know. Maybe then he could ask Yosano for her help on the matter. She would know what to do, how to help him, unlike Ranpo himself.

But still he refrained, it wasn't any of his business and it didn't effect him in anyway. As long as he didn't poke at it, there was no way it would come up. All's well that's well with him, after all.

That was the only time in his life Ranpo had ever been so wrong, and he regretted not pushing aside his fears to help him.

* * *

Ranpo sat lazily on his swirly chair, feet lounged on the desk in front of him as he sucked on a strawberry lollipop, humming a little tune. Today was a good day. He had finished a case for the police the other day and now he could sit here as long as he wants, with no business that needs his attention. This was his favorite part of his day, when he could sit in the Agency he and Fukuzawa created together and watch the other members as they mingled about.

He liked watching them.

He liked that they were happy here, that they felt like they could belong here. They were his family, though he wouldn't say it outright, and he liked interacting with them. Dazai was especially entertaining, as his wit and intelligence nearly matched Ranpo's own. Dazai could keep up with him and Ranpo found it quite refreshing. Of course, no matter what, Ranpo was still a lot better than Dazai.

As Ranpo thought, Haruno passed by him carrying a stack of mail which she placed on an empty desk near him. As she did so, one of the packages caught his eye.

"Haruno, what is that?" He asked inquisitively as she turned to look at what he meant.

"Hmm? Oh, you mean this envelope?" Haruno picked it up before holding it out to Ranpo, "I don't know, it doesn't have a return address nor is it addressed to somebody specific. I thought it might be an anonymous request. I was going to look at it later, but you can do it now if you want."

Ranpo takes the package and examines it, no longer paying attention to Haruno. It was just a simple manilla envelope. Nothing distinctive about it at all. He didn't know what about it caught his interest, but now his curiosity was piqued. Ranpo removes his feet off from the desk, planting them firmly on the floor and slowly unclasped the top of the envelope. Looking inside, he sees what he thinks are photographs. Humming slightly in interest, Ranpo removes one of the photos with the tips of his fingers.

With the picture in full view, Ranpo's emerald eyes widen in horror. The envelope fell from his numb hands, crashing onto the floor and scattering the photos across the surface. Everyone, shocked by the sudden noise, stopped what they were doing and watched in concern as Ranpo abruptly stood up, not noticing his poncho falling from his shoulders as he continued looking at the photo held within trembling hands.

Atsushi, being the closest to Ranpo and noticing his face rapidly draining of color, stepped closer to Ranpo, "Ranpo, are you okay? What's wrong?-"

Before Atsushi could get the question all the way out, Ranpo started to shout at the top of his lungs, "President! PRESIDENT! PRESIDENT!"

Each word got louder every time he said it and Ranpo didn't stop yelling until finally Fukuzawa hurried through the door, his usually stoic expression showing concern as he frantically searched around the room for Ranpo. Spotting Ranpo, he swiftly made his way over to him.

"Ranpo," Fukuzawa looked Ranpo for any clue as to what had caused his distress, "what has happened? Are you hurt?"

Rather than answering Fukuzawa, Ranpo instead shakily handed the president the photograph he held, trying his hardest to keep the growing tears at bay. Ranpo had seen a lot of things in his life, but rarely had he seen anything that had effected him so much. The last thing he could remember that had, had been his parents' death and this was much worse, if simply because of the brutality of it all.

Fukuzawa carefully took the photo from Ranpo's trembling hand, ignoring everyone crowding around the pair, before turning to study the object that had caused his ward so much grief.

What he saw in one simple photograph would give him nightmares for weeks to come.

In the photo, he saw a young boy of about seven years old. The boy was gaunt, looking starved to the point you could count every one of his fragile, protruding ribs, and as pale as death. The child's dark unruly hair clung to his face, damp with sweat of great pain and no light reached his wide, sunken, brown eyes. They were completely empty and filled with so much agony—so much emfear/em—it was a wonder his little heart hadn't given out yet. Massive purple, black, and blue bruises littered his skin and blood flowed freely from numerous lacerations—many deep enough to see the white of bone, and if one looked closely enough remnants of terrible burns, through all that crimson—carved along his arms, legs and torso, completely covering the floor the child lied on and much of his discolored flesh.

Worst of all, as though this tiny child hadn't suffered enough, cruel metal shackles encased his bird-like wrists and ankles, holding him taut against the bloodstained floor. They cut mercilessly into delicate flesh, rubbing them raw as the young boy thrashed violently, trying to get away. Kneeing over him, a man twice his size slashed into his already abused body like butter. His expression contorted into a permanent scream, forever caught by the camera for somebody's sick pleasure as they cruelly tortured this poor boy.

As Fukuzawa looked at this scene in absolute horror, nausea coursing through him at such gross mistreatment of a child, something familiar struck him about the boy. Looking past the blood, the bruises, and the face distorted in pure agony Fukuzawa realized he knew this boy. This child was...

"Is that... Dazai?" Fukuzawa almost jumped in surprise, having forgotten anyone else was around, before looking over at Atsushi's appalled face as the boy took the photo with such care it looked as though he thought it would bite him.

Ranpo answered before Fukuzawa had the chance to think of any sort of reply for the now traumatized boy, face contorted in self-reproach, "Yeah... yeah that's definitely Dazai. Hell, I should have known! I should've... should've done _something_!"

"This isn't your fault. You couldn't have done anything," everyone turned to look at Kunikida as he spoke, voice rumbling with barely contained anger, not removing his gaze from the photo, " _None_ of us could have done anything, this happened a long time ago and _Dazai didn't tell us anything_. How could we have helped when he didn't trust us enough to tell us?"

Kunikida was angry. He was angry at the people who would hurt a _helpless_ _child_ like that, and took pictures for later enjoyment. He was angry at Dazai for never mentioning this to anyone just like he never mentioned being part of the mafia before. Most of all, he was angry at himself for not seeing how much pain Dazai must be in under what he now realized was probably a happy facade. How could he not have seen it? Was Dazai that good at hiding how he felt that _no one_ noticed?

"I don't think it was about trust," Atsushi whispered, looking at the floor, no longer able to look at the photo, and wrapped his arm around his torso, one hand covering the poker burns he received from the orphanage headmaster, "it's... just not something that's easy to talk about."

The room was silent after that. Everyone caught up in their own thoughts. Naomi clung to her brother for comfort, both wearing pained expressions, to the left of Kunikida; Kenji sat on a desk, head hung in sorrow as Haruno placed a comforting hand on his back; Ranpo stood, grief-stricken face staring pleading at Fukuzawa with Yosano hovering close behind; Atsushi still held himself protectively, only coming out of it when Kyouka pulled on his sleeve.

He looked at her and when he did her shocked expression and pale face worried him. Noticing she had Atsushi's full attention, Kyouka raised a shaking hand and pointed at something on the ground where Ranpo stood earlier, "Look. There are more photos."

Atsushi turned his head in the direction Kyouka pointed and saw more photographs stacked atop each other.

He cautiously walked towards them, Kyouka close behind, and paused on the edge of the pile. Doing so, he got a clearer view of the contents of the pictures.

President," Atsushi said with trepidation as he knelt on the floor to sift through the other photos Ranpo had dropped and gathered them in his shaking hands with the first one, "All of these... they're... they're..."

Atsushi couldn't finish his sentence, but he didn't need to. On the floor, dozen of pictures depicted various gruesome ways Dazai had been tortured—some seeming to be psychological torture rather than just physical. As Atsushi stared blankly at the brutality being enacted on Dazai, he realized he could see an age progression within the photos. Starting at what Atsushi thought was a five year old Dazai, the images continued until he was as old as fourteen.

"He was _tortured_ for _nine years_?!"

Atsushi jumped at the voice that suddenly sounded next to his ear and turned to see a fuming Yosano. He had _never_ seen Yosano this livid before and Atsushi felt a brief stab of fear as he looked into her blazing gaze. As she reached out towards him, Atsushi couldn't help the slight flinch that went through him and didn't protest when Yosano snatched the photographs right out of his hands.

If it were possible, the anger in her expression grew more intense as she got a closer look at each horrifying photo.

"This is just _sick_ ," she growled heatedly, disgust and hatred clear in her voice as she looked at a bawling six year old Dazai, mouth pouring blood as cruel hands held it open to pull more of his tiny teeth out with pliers, "he was just a _child_. Who could do something so deplorable to a child?! _I'll kill them."_

"Calm down," Fukuzawa said calmly as he put his hand on Yosano's shoulder, though you could see the smoldering rage shimmering behind his hard eyes, "Getting angry will not help anyone now, least of all Dazai. What we need to do now is figure who sent these photographs to us in the first place, and most of all, _why_? What do they achieve by doing this?"

While this did nothing to ease the anger and horror at the situation, it did get everyone to stop and think.

Yosano's grip loosened on the photos, expression falling into solemnity as her anger had no outlet to keep it fueled for long. Ranpo stepped closer to her, wanting to comfort, but not quite sure how to when he himself was just as shaken as she.

Before he could even think of what to say or how to say it, the door to the entrance of the office opened, drawing everyone's attention, and in strolled the very person that had everyone so upset.

Dazai had on his usual lackadaisical smile planted firmly on his face, seeming to all as though he hadn't a care in the world. Just looking at him, no one could have guessed what horrors he lived through in his life. He let nothing slip through his cheerful persona, but as the ADA members studied him closer, now knowing what they knew, they could see the same dullness to his eyes as in the photos.

Just emhow much/em did they miss? How much more was there about Dazai that no one knew, that no one had bothered asking or even wondered about?

They watched as Dazai walked into the room, humming the tune of his suicide song enthusiastically, not yet noticing the stares from his coworkers.

"Morning everyone! It's such a lovely day to commit suicide, don't you think?" He chimed in his usual flamboyant greeting.

When he received no response, not even Kunikida's griping about being late or getting to work, he blinked in wonder, smile still stuck on his face.

He turned his attention to the others and saw them all standing in a circle with worrying expressions as they all continued to just stare at Dazai. Kunikida and Yosano shared a weird mix of anger and anguish on their faces. Ranpo's eyes shimmered with regret and strangely enough guilt, though Dazai could not fathom what Ranpo could possibly feel guilty about, especially when regarding him. Atsushi's face held so much sorrow and painful understanding that it physically hurt Dazai to look at. Kyouka's usually impassive expression spoke of pure heartbreak and confusion, and she held tightly onto Atsushi as though he was the only thing keeping her together. Tears streamed down poor Kenji's face—looking so horribly wrong on such a cheerful boy—and he hiccuped softly while Haruno held him, not looking much better than Kenji herself. The Tanizaki siblings had a shocked horror-filled countenance as they clung to each other, for once not inappropriately, and they looked as though they wanted to say something to him, but couldn't get their voices out through all of the tears.

With each person Dazai examined, he became more and more confused about what had caused this mass breakdown. He had never seen them all quite so upset before, and never all at the same time.

He looked to Fukuzawa, thinking he might find some stability from the stoic leader, but his expression more than anyone's disconcerted Dazai. Fukuzawa looked at Dazai with such sorrow—such utter remorse and grief—it knocked the air right out of Dazai's lungs.

For a moment he couldn't breathe, all the air froze in his lungs and he thought he might actually die from this. Never before had anyone directed such expressions at him. Never before had anyone _cared_ enough to feel emotions as strong as these for him. Everything about the situation was foreign and he didn't even know what had brought this all about.

Forcing himself to bring air back into his burning lungs, and pushing aside the strange heaviness building within his numb, unfeeling heart, Dazai analyzed them more rigorously, trying to determine what had brought this all about. That was when he saw how white Yosano's knuckles were as she tightly gripped a stack of papers. Pretending he hadn't noticed their distressed states and keeping up his blithe charade, Dazai casually waltzed up to the group.

"What are you all looking at over here, hmm?"

Not really expecting a response from the horrified group, Dazai came up to Yosano and stole the photos right out of her hands before she could do much else but gasp in a cut off protest.

Smiling at how easy he took the photos, Dazai looked down at them and immediately froze. All expression drained from his face abruptly, becoming hollow and blank, almost as though there was never any expression on it in the first place. His eyes grew cold and lifeless—darker even than before when filled with fake emotion—giving them a frightening flashback of what he must have looked like when in the mafia. All sound around him faded away and, in its place, memories crashed into him violently as his eyes refused to look away from the horrors on the first photograph the agency saw.

Dazai remembered that day. He remembered screaming until his throat tore itself into raw and began drowning him in his own metallic blood. He remembered begging for it to stop only for the pain to intensify because _He_ didn't like it when Dazai begged. He remembered his entire body burning from agony to the bone like a raging inferno eating him alive and trying to keep in the acidic vomit, knowing if he didn't the torture would continue for another few hours. He remembered tears falling from his young, emaciated face—when he had still had tears to cry—long after his voice ran itself ragged, being the only thing he had strength left to do. The only way he had left to deal with the pain, but not helping at all.

Then, Dazai remembered when the torture stopped. When _that man_ came up to his prone form, petted his hair in a way that could almost be described as gentle, loving even, and told him he did this for Dazai's own good. How one day, Dazai would understand why he did this to him and he would be _thankful_ —Dazai's still waiting for that part to happen. Then he gingerly pick him up off of the crimson soaked floor, whispering comforting words in Dazai's ear, and took him to Mori to have him looked after.

After what felt like an eternity to everyone else in the room as they watched Dazai stare vacantly at the abhorrent photograph, he finally spoke, so softly they almost missed it, "Where did you get these?"

Unnerved by his deadened tone, but not willing to comment on it just yet, Atsushi timidly answered, "We... we don't know, Dazai. It was sent anonymously so we just thought... it was a case. We're really sorry, we didn't know... Are you okay?"

Dazai didn't seem to be listening to Atsushi anymore. Instead, he quickly packed the photographs back into the manila envelope they came in and stormed out of the room, coat flaring and expression unchanging from its blank appearance. Ranpo, having finally gotten over his shock, tried calling after Dazai, "Wait, where are you going? Dazai— _Dazai_ come back!"

But he didn't, he just continued to walk away and everyone could only watch him go.

"What are we going to do now?" Ranpo asked, sounding lost and looking to Fukuzawa for direction.

In response, Fukuzawa's eyes filled with steel, "We look into every angle, every clue and resources we have and find out _who is responsible_ for this. Who sent it, why, how did they get it access to it, _everything_."

As Fukuzawa spoke, everyone went into motion; making calls, writing notes, and searching through piles of paper to see if anything else was sent, "We leave no stone unturned. One of our own is in danger and we will not let him fend for himself."

Pausing for a moment in his speech, Fukuzawa looked over at Yosano and Ranpo, who still stood beside him.

"We will need to get those photos back from Dazai if we have any hope of learning more," looking briefly uncomfortable, he continued, "and we'll have to ask him about the... situation in the photos. Do you think you can take care of that?"

Ranpo could certainly see why Fukuzawa asked Yosano and him. Yosano had knowledge in medicine, injuries, and the effect they'd have on a person, being a doctor and all, so she'd be able to understand the damage done to Dazai. She wouldn't let up until Dazai allowed her to help and could actively watch him for any signs of remaining damage, physical or otherwise, which Ranpo had no doubt there were.

On the other hand, Ranpo would be able to deduce things Dazai wouldn't say just by looking at him and he could and would call him out on any lies he tried to tell them, and inform Yosano. Dazai was a great liar, but even he wouldn't be able to keep a level tone when discussing something so painful.

With determination in their eyes, Ranpo and Yosano agreed, "Yes, President!"

* * *

Reviews are greatly appreciated!


	2. Into the Mafia

I just wanted to thank all my guest reviewers! I really appreciated the reviews and feedback everyone gave me. Also, there are some references to the Dazai and Chuuya Fifteen light novel, but nothing in too much detail

Because I forgot to last chapter, I will put the disclaimer in this chapter.

 **Disclaimer: I do not and will never own Bungou Stray Dogs.**

I hope you all enjoy!

* * *

Dazai's mind was completely clear, devoid of all thought, but one as he stalked purposefully towards the Port Mafia, route engrained in him through years of walking these paths, even while so distracted. After several minutes, he finally caught sight of the towering black buildings the Port Mafia consisted of.

This is where things would get harder.

There would be hundreds of mafia members in and around the building, making it nearly impossible to get into the building without a fight. That didn't matter to Dazai though. He could get in, and no one would even try to stop him.

He would show them why the Mafia called him the Demon Prodigy. Why they still feared him even after all these years.

When he was within 200 feet of the building, mafia grunts immediately swarmed around him, guns raised and ready to fire. But one look at his face caused the group to waver and back away in uncertainty and fear. They didn't understand what had led to such a reaction. Only one man stood in front of them, barely older than a youth, but something about him—maybe his stony countenance and complete lack of fear, or any other emotion, in the face of so many guns or his willowy frame radiating so much power and strength?—filled them with such foreboding that when he stepped forward, they all parted and allowed him entrance into their headquarters without so much as a word against it.

Similar reactions were common as Dazai went through the building and made his way to the top floor where he knew Mori could be found. He ignored all calls to stop from the few brave souls that dared get in his way and paid no attention when the grunts became fewer as he went and he came across higher ranked members. These were the members who would remember him, the ones who lived long enough to see the Demon Prodigy work. And these were the Mafia members who knew not to mess with him with just one look at his face.

Dazai almost didn't see Hirotsu from the corner of his eye, so focused on his task, but he did see it when Hirotsu stopped Higuchi from confronting him, pulling her safely behind himself as Dazai passed, and felt his concerned gaze follow him as he went up another level to reach his destination.

In record time, Dazai came upon the large, looming mahogany doors of Mori's private study, being guarded by two beefy Mafia goons in their typical black dress suits. Without even having to pause in his stride, the men hastily stepped aside, allowing Dazai entrance into the room with no trouble whatsoever, proving to Dazai Mafia henchmen did, in fact, have survival instincts after all.

 _Good_. He wasn't in the mood to shoot anyone today. At least not yet. If that sentiment still stood in a few minutes relied entirely on what Mori had to say for himself.

As the door creaked open, revealing the low lit European-style room, Dazai was greeted by the sight of Chuuya and Kouyou already in audience with Mori. At the sound of the opening doors, the three occupants turned to see who dared interrupt them, a reprimand ready to from Chuuya before quickly dying on his tongue when he saw Dazai.

And that brought up a hundred different reasons for profanities to leave Chuuya's mouth.

"Oi, Dazai, what the _hell_ are you _doing_ here?! How did you even get _in here_?! There are at least a _thousand_ people out there that _should_ have stopped you from just waltzing in!"

The disgust and anger clearly shone in Chuuya's voice as he stomped menacingly toward Dazai, only for him to completely bypass Chuuya. He didn't even throw his usual irritatingly, mocking look—and _why_ did Dazai's empty expression _bother_ him so much, why did it feel so _wrong_ now when it never had before?—at Chuuya as he advanced towards Mori.

As he approached, Mori covertly covered his surprise at Dazai's unexpected appearance with an empty smile.

"Ah, Dazai, have you finally decided to accept my offer to rejoin the Mafia and take your place as an executive?"

He severely doubted it but, well, Dazai always did have the knack of surprising him.

Of all the responses he thought would come from that statement, having an envelope slammed onto his desk definitely did not make it on the list.

Throwing out his usual caution when dealing with Mori, and without even the slightest inflection in his voice—matching his blank expression perfectly—Dazai spoke, "What are you planning by sending this to the ADA?"

Blinking slightly, but maintaining his smile, Mori looked from Dazai's face to the manila envelope, and back again. That was a look he hadn't seen for a long while. Not since Dazai learned to fake a cheery personality all those years ago.

While still watching Dazai, Mori opened the envelope with deliberate slowness, only looking down after pulling out all of its contents. The smile immediately fell from Mori's face as he realized what he held in his hands. He sifted through each photograph carefully, spreading them out on his desk to see them more clearly. As he did he remembered treating Dazai after each incident, remembered every injury—all the blood, the wounds, the bruises and burns, every broken bone—covering his small, shaking form. Mori may have been cruel and merciless, but even he could never have inflicted such barbarity upon a child.

After thoroughly examining each of the photos, Mori warily peered back up at Dazai, "You know I never took pictures of this. I was never that callous."

Undeterred by the admittedly true response, Dazai stood up from his bent position and gazed down at Mori, " _You_ may not have, but you have all the files of the person who did. You were never above using tools already at your disposal."

His voice was little more than a murmur. Soft, but carrying loudly in the silence of the room, holding everyone's attention. His eyes didn't let up for a moment as they lingered on Mori, intent and focused as only Dazai could manage. Mori could see no anger, no hate, or disdain or even condemnation in those dull chocolate eyes, and yet it carried such gravity, promising horrible pain and torment in their dark depths. Normally, Mori would have found this amusing, right now though, nothing about the situation amused him.

"I had no knowledge of these photos, Dazai," Mori intoned seriously, assuring Dazai heard and saw the sincerity in his words, "This is my first time seeing them. I never imagined he enjoyed taking pictures of... this."

The revulsion in Mori's voice as he gesticulated at the images on his desk proved to Dazai the truth in his words. With that, Dazai had to ponder on who else could have gained access to the photos.

Only one name came to mind.

" _Dostoevsky_ ," the name came out almost in a hiss, the first approximation of real emotion to arise from Dazai since leaving the agency.

His arms fold thoughtfully and his eyes darkened as he speculated on what plans Dostoevsky wanted to accomplish from this.

No longer able to contain his discontent from being ignored—not to mention feeling lost, _who were they talking about?_ —as Mori and Dazai talked, Chuuya marched angrily back towards Dazai, harshly grabbing his shoulder and turning Dazai to face him. As he did so though, he finally caught a glimpse of the subject of their discussion. All hot anger fled Chuuya's veins immediately, the color draining from his face, as it instead filled up with ice cold horror. He reached out a hand and grabbed a photo from Mori's desk, bringing it up to his face to examine it closer.

The image greatly disturbed him. Even more so because he realized right off the bat the young child—no older than five–was, in fact, Dazai. He had never known Dazai to show any sort of pain or fear before. He could be shot, stabbed, kicked and punched and all he would do in return was mock and smirk. He wasn't doing that here.

Not at all.

Here, Dazai screamed and cried. He struggled to escape the ironclad hold of steel chains as a man at least in his sixties scorched the flesh of his arms and back with a blowtorch. The skin bubbled and blistered, turning a raw pink from the flames as they licked at the soft muscle hidden beneath. The chains around his thin wrists blazed an angry red under the unrelenting heat, no doubt melting onto the skin it encased.

"Dazai, what... is this?" Chuuya's tongue felt numb as he spoke, making it difficult to form words, "This... this is _you_. What _are_ these?! And _who_ is that _man_?!"

His head shot up to stare at Dazai's face as he yelled, paying no attention to Kouyou's sharp gasp and hasty back-step as she caught sight of the man Chuuya mentioned in the photograph from over his shoulder, a long forgotten fear shining in her azure eyes.

Dazai's eyes flickered to the picture briefly then met up again with Chuuya's, confusion flitting through his still dull chocolate orbs before clearing again in realization, "Ah. I had forgotten you did not have the pleasure of meeting _Him_."

Something about the way Dazai said that sent red flags flashing through Chuuya's mind and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. Just who was this man, to be able to hurt Dazai this way and still leave him afraid after all these years?

"What do you mean by that? Just answer the damn question already! How could you _not tell me_ about this, Dazai?!" In his anger, Chuuya waved around the photo violently, and in the process gave Dazai a slight glimpse of writing on the back.

Completely forgetting Chuuya's questions, Dazai snatched the photo from his clenched fist and turned the photo to the back for a better view of the writing. A single word was written there, not much to go on, but if this photo had writing on it, then chances were the others did too.

"Dostoyevsky left messages on these photos. He wants me to puzzle it out, the bastard," Dazai said as he turned back to Mori's desk, studying the photos again. He flipped a few over and saw that each photo only had one word, just like the first.

Now to figure out what order to put them in...

Staring at the photos, Dazai noticed that Dostoyevsky made sure to get photos of every year the torture went on. "He wants me to put it in chronological order..." He spoke more to himself than the occupants of the room as he went about moving photos into the right age groups. The tricky part now would be organizing the photos of the same year into the right order.

Unfortunately for Dazai, he remembered all too well.

As he arranged the photos, Kouyou watched with morbid fascination, trying to keep herself from shaking as over and over again, she saw that man that had ruined all chance of her living in the light,"You can remember the exact order these things happened to you?"

Not looking at her, Dazai's hand trembled the slightest bit as he put down another ghastly photo, "It's hard to forget when this is all I knew for years."

Silence descended upon the room at those words, nobody knowing what to say.

Chuuya watched as Dazai placed photo after photo onto the desk. Next to the photo with the blowtorch, Chuuya saw Dazai locked in a cage too small for him to fit comfortably in. He curled tightly into himself, trying to make more room in the tiny space, but even doing that did little to ease the pressure of the bars digging into his flesh. He looked severely malnourished and had angry burns on his skin that hadn't yet healed, identical to the ones in the previous photo.

Those pictures were taken relatively close together then...

Looking at each of the photographs with a critical eye, Chuuya noticed something odd. For one, they seemed to alternate between physical and psychological torture, if the first two pictures were any indication. Next, as Dazai aged through the photographs—six or seven photos for each year—less and less pain and emotion showed on his face. When Chuuya's eye finally fell on the images of Dazai at fourteen, no emotion of any kind could be found on his face. Even when the torture methods grew harsher—if that were _even_ possible at this point—and, in some cases, Dazai looked to be close to his death bed, he didn't show the slightest hint of pain. He just took it all with the empty expression he wore now.

Sickening realization slammed into Chuuya like a brick wall. That was the intention all along. The man in the photographs tortured Dazai in so many ways and for _so long_ with the sole purpose of eradicating every drop of emotion Dazai had. Everything that made him _human_. He wanted to create a weapon. An emotionless, merciless human weapon, willing to do anything and everything to achieve any goal he gave it.

'A weapon like _me_ ,' Chuuya couldn't help the thought as memories of research notes and Arahabaki flash through his mind.

And the scary thing was that it had _worked_. At least for a while, until Dazai had defected, leaving the Port Mafia.

Dazai was amoral at the core. His only reason for being with the Armed Detective Agency rather than the Port Mafia was due to a promise he made to his dying friend, Sakunosuke Oda. He didn't care about good or bad, right or wrong, and now, Chuuya knew why.

Suddenly, a lot of things about Dazai clicked. Why he could be so cruel and ruthless one minute, only to switch and suddenly be cheerful and friendly. How Chuuya could never tell which face he showed was the real one and which was just for show. They were _all_ for show.

As he scanned the photos while trying to keep a lid on the growing fury the more he saw, Chuuya's gaze froze on a particular grisly photo. Inside a cage—only big enough for a boy of five feet to lie down big enough in both directions—a ten-year-old Dazai tried to fight of two starving dogs. They tore at him, ripping deep gashes into the flesh of his legs, arms, and torso with razor sharp teeth and sharp claws. One of them appeared to have gotten a hold of his shoulder with its strong jaws and Dazai pushed at its face with all his might, still kicking the other dog to keep it from doing the same. On the surface, Dazai looked calm, but his eyes screamed muted terror.

This picture brought back memories of times he'd seen Dazai interact with dogs and his deep disdain for them. He always claimed that they were complete nuisances and a waste of time, but Chuuya could tell he was afraid by how he flinched slightly whenever one got too close. Chuuya wondered now if Dazai was trying to hide his fear of the animals or if he simply didn't realize he was afraid. Chuuya leaned towards the latter theory, seeing how so out of touch with emotions Dazai seemed to be.

At this point, Chuuya didn't think Dazai _could_ understand how he felt or even begin to interpret feelings if he ever experienced them after everything he's been through. He probably didn't even know his own likes or dislikes.

Chuuya was pulled out of his musings as Dazai finished organizing the photos and began flipping them over. With that done, he began to read aloud the message they held.

" _Fear and pain is all you shall know,_

 _nothing can stop it as it will linger and grow._

 _Your hollowed out heart shall burst and burn_

 _as old memories begin to churn._

 _The broken, empty shell you are_

 _will be revealed, your mask too weak to bar._

 _Hollowed out and all on your own,_

 _despair will grip you down to the bone._ "

"Well, that's quite poetic, isn't it?" Mori says with morbid humor, drawing everybody's attention back to him.

Dazai gaze darkened as he focused back on the man in front of him. "How did he get a hold of these photos, Mori? They were supposed to be locked up."

Mori dropped all pretense of humor immediately, "I am wondering about that myself. If I didn't know these were here, then how did he? This presents quite a problem if the Port Mafia can be infiltrated with no one stopping it."

His tone and the way he looked pointedly at Dazai seemed to imply he meant more than just the Dostoyevsky front. Indeed, Dazai himself had waltzed right into the building with little to no resistance, who knows who else has been able to slip past.

"Forget about Dostoyevsky for a damn _minute_ ," Chuuya exclaimed loudly, taking hold of Dazai's arm once again, "Dazai, you still haven't told me who that man is!"

Dazai removed his arm from Chuuya's hold with surprising apathy and turned to collect the photos from Mori's desk. Once he placed them all back into the envelope, Dazai looked directly into Chuuya's sapphire as with his lifeless chocolate orbs.

"Does it matter?" He questioned dully, "He's dead anyway."

And without a backward glance, the left the room as abruptly as he had entered.

* * *

Chuuya watched Dazai leave through the heavy double doors, growing angrier—and more worried—at Dazai's continual evasion of his questions. As soon as the doors clicked behind Dazai, Chuuya turned and yelled at Mori, momentarily forgetting just who it was he shouted at.

"What the _hell_ was that, boss?! Who was the man in those photos?!"

 _How did he get away with doing that to Dazai_ , is what Chuuya really wanted to ask, unable to understand how something like this could happen.

With a raised eyebrow at the usually respectful executive's tone, Mori indulgently replied, "You wouldn't know him, Nakahara, as you joined a year after he already died, but that man is my predecessor as boss of the Port Mafia."

Chuuya's attention immediately snapped to Mori, mind reeling. Quickly regaining his composure, Chuuya glared at him with such incredulous fury, Mori could almost feel the heat of it on his skin, " _That's_ the old boss? That _psycho_?! He looked completely insane, you _saw_ what _he was doing_!"

Rage filled Chuuya as he thought of the old mafia boss, the horrors he inflicted upon the city during his reign.

Kouyou's soft voice distracted Chuuya from his anger for a moment and he turned to look at her, sapphire orbs filled with warring emotions. With her eyes to the floor and hands clasped tightly together, Kouyou looked uncharacteristically subdued and vulnerable. "You are fortunate to have joined the Port Mafia after Mori had taken over. There are no words to describe the horror of Touson Shimazaki's reign. You saw what he did to the city, but you didn't see what he was doing to the mafia; what it was before. There was no limit to his cruelty or his insanity. If he had still been the boss even now, there would be nothing left of Yokohama, but a pile of ash. Still, even for him, this... I have _never_ seen something so abhorrent. I thought even _he_ was above this kind of brutality, at least to a child."

Her vulnerability vanished abruptly, replaced by a thundering rage as her attention focused on Mori once more, "You knew the boy was being tortured and you never did anything about it? Toughening him up is one thing, its necessary for survival, but the amount of damage I saw done to him in those photos is despicable, even for the Port Mafia."

Mori leaned forward, placing his elbows on his desk, he placed his chin on his clasped hands and gave Kouyou a grim look. "Not to the old boss, it wasn't. He would go to any lengths to get what he wants. You should know that better than anyone, Ozaki, after what happened to you."

"He was just a _child_!" Kouyou hissed angrily, not even trying to hold back her roiling temper, both at the recent revelation regarding Dazai and at Mori's allusion to her lost love.

"Yes, he was just a child, but he was _his_ child. His very own son."

Kouyou and Chuuya flinched harshly, as though they had just been slapped across the face.

"...What?" Chuuya haltingly asks, unable to correlate the cruel madman in the photos with the word father. _Dazai's father, how could someone do_ that _to their own child?!_

He had never met this man, and the more he learned about him, the more he was glad he never would.

"There was nothing I could do, not at that time. I couldn't say anything either. The boss wouldn't have hesitated to kill me if I tried, he was _very_ possessive of Dazai," Mori stared off into the distance, eyes glazing slightly as though lost in a memory, "All I could do was patch him up and when I killed my predecessor, no one _ever_ touched him again, I made sure of it. But by then, I'm afraid he was irreparably damaged. It made him a good executive though. Well, until he defected that is."

Shadows crept over Chuuya's blue eyes at Mori's words and he clenched his fists so tightly, they would have drawn blood had it not been for his gloves.

"That didn't stop _you_ from hurting him, did it?" Coldness clung to his voice and only willpower and his loyalty to the Mafia prevented him from lashing out at the man.

Mori dismissively waved his hand, as though it was no big deal, "That was different. What _I_ did to Dazai was simply normal mafia training and the occasional punishment for falling short of expectations or failed assignments. Only a few broken bones here and there. Nothing... too substantial."

"You never hurt me for _failing_ ," Chuuya hissed accusingly, mouth curled into a sneer at the last word, as though they had ever screwed up bad enough Dazai couldn't fix it with one of his back up plans.

He _hated_ doubting Mori like this. He was the _boss_ and Chuuya was nothing if not fiercely loyal, but he couldn't just push aside Mori _hurting_ Dazai after knowing everything he'd been through, everything that had been _done_ to him.

Mori smiled condescendingly at his apparent anger.

"At first, you were new to the mafia. You didn't know how things worked, so I gave you an adjustment period to learn the rules. Afterwards... well, Dazai was in charge of strategies for the operations and he was _very_ insistent he receives any punishments for mistakes. Maybe he liked the fire in your eyes— a fire that had long since left his own—and didn't want it squandered by... overly harsh treatment."

Mori paused before shifting his attention to Kouyou, "And besides you were placed under Ozaki's care and as you know, she's very protective. She wouldn't have me laying a hand on you after I had already delegated your care to her, isn't that right, Ozaki?" Mori asked as he looked at Kouyou slyly, her expression growing cold as ice as the conversation progressed.

Chuuya completely froze at this new revelation. Dazai had been _protecting_ him? All those time Mori only had Dazai stay behind to take the hit for subordinates mess ups, it was because Dazai didn't want Chuuya involved? Because Chuuya had Kouyou to protect him?

Chuuya's mind flashed to moments after assignments didn't go perfectly as planned. He remembers seeing the apprehension in Dazai's lifeless eyes hidden behind a smirk as Chuuya left the room, wondering again why only Dazai had to take the fall. "And you didn't think that maybe those _few broken bones_ only exacerbated the trauma he went through before?!" Chuuya yelled as he tried to wrap his mind around everything he learned.

"There was nothing I could do that would be worse than what had already been done to him. Believe me, I would know. I've treated every injury he's ever had in his life. At that time, Dazai didn't know what it was not to be in some kind of pain. If I hadn't done what I did, if I had not hurt him periodically, he would not have been able to function and then he would have been no use to anyone, let alone himself." The way Mori said all this was cold and clinical, showing no amount of concern or remorse for having continued to torture Dazai.

Chuuya scoffed in disbelief, scowl deepening, "You expect me to _believe_ that? You expect me to believe you _tortured_ him for his _own benefit_?! What a load of crap!"

"It is the truth, Nakahara," Mori cut in, losing some of his carefully kept patience at Chuuya's continued show of disrespect, "When Dazai was first allowed time to actually _heal_ from his injuries fully without receiving new ones, he came to me thinking something was wrong with him.

"He was ten years old at the time, and it had been weeks since his father last hurt him, opting instead to focus more on Dazai's strategy training and game theory. The boss didn't just want Dazai to be impervious to pain, but he also wanted him to be sharp of mind. It would be no use to train him to withstand all types of torture if there was nothing going through his head after all, and Shimazaki wanted the perfect weapon, both in mind and in body before unleashing him into the mafia. And even then, he only actually joined the mafia at fifteen, a year after he father was dead, but I digress."

Mori paused to collect his thoughts, leaning back in his chair, he watched Kouyou and Chuuya carefully with his almost red eyes, studying their expressions at his words as he continued his story,

"Usually, the boss would still torture Dazai between strategic lessons to make sure he wouldn't cave if someone were to try to get answers out of him, but this time was different. This time, there were no torture sessions and for the first time, Dazai wasn't constantly riddled with pain. And so, a couple days after all his injuries were gone, Dazai showed up at my office and told me something was wrong. I asked what he meant and do you know what he told me?

"He said he couldn't feel anything. He said something was missing and he felt the hollowness within him even more than before. He didn't understand what was wrong with him and he soon became hysterical. It was... disturbing, to say the least, to see a child who has endured so much pain he no longer knew how to show it suddenly be so afraid."

Chuuya could imagine. He had _never_ seen Dazai so much as falter, let alone break down with fear as Mori described. He didn't know what to say and could only stare on as Mori spoke once more.

"I had to slap him in order to calm him down, and as soon as I did, he stopped and looked at me. And then he told me that that was the feeling he had been missing. The _pain_. And at that moment, I realized Dazai had _never_ been without pain before. Now tell me, Nakahara, how do you tell a ten-year-old that they aren't supposed to be in pain all the time?

"How do you tell him the... absence he's feeling is natural; that he's supposed to feel like that and not have constant pain all the time? He was able to deal with the lack of pain as he went longer without it, but it would have been detrimental to his mental state for it to just _stop_. What would you have had me do?"

"I don't know," Chuuya whispered, numb and his face devoid of all color. He knew Dazai was messed up from the moment he first laid eyes on him, but Chuuya never realized just _how_ messed up.

Dazai was so damaged, it physically hurt Chuuya to think about it.

"Dazai hates pain, but he also doesn't know how to live without it," Mori murmured almost to himself, but with his eyes locked onto Chuuya, "an interesting paradox, wouldn't you say, Nakahara? I wonder how he's been fairing in the Agency with his... condition. I wonder if he's had to hurt himself just to feel some semblance of normalcy."

Chuuya didn't want to think about Dazai hurting himself.

He didn't want to think about Dazai sitting in a dark room, cutting his arms open or scratching incessantly just to feel something like he'd seen him do so many times.

He didn't want to think about how _broken_ Dazai was.

"May I leave, boss?" Chuuya finally asked, eyes wide and staring just past Mori's shoulder. He needed time to think.

"I don't see why not, today has been very tiring and we can continue our business another day. You are dismissed."

Chuuya bowed his head slightly in a show of respect before turning to leave the room, not noticing Kouyou's worried gaze following after him as his eyes steeled in determination. He needed to find more information on this and he won't stop looking until it was in his hands.

If Dostoyevsky could get this information, then so could he.

* * *

Touson Shimazaki is the name of a Japanese author I found when looking for a good name for the old mafia boss. It sort of works for my purposes from what I found, but I'm not sure at this point how much I will actually use.

There are no set dates for updates, they will come when they come, but I am working on it. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	3. Fighting Through Despair

Dazai spared no glance back as he left the mafia headquarters, his mind so full of conflicting thoughts, he couldn't think straight. For once, Dazai didn't know what should concern him more, the fact that the ADA—not to mention Chuuya and Kouyou—now knew about the torture he suffered through as a child, or whatever Dostoyevsky thought to gain from this stunt. Both issues could prove to be a problem later—though admittedly one of them more deadly than the other—but both screamed for his attention, tearing at his mind and giving him a pounding headache.

How would he handle this situation? How _could_ he?

The ADA probably wouldn't leave him alone after this and he couldn't think about how to counter Dostoyevsky's plans when he's worried about placating the Agency. His thoughts continued to go around in circles like this until he suddenly found himself outside of his apartment. He hadn't even noticed the darkening sky, signifying the end of the workday. Looking around for any sign of his coworkers, Dazai hurriedly unlocked the door to his room before they showed up, not wanting to deal with them at the moment.

He opened the door to his dark apartment and stepped inside without bothering to turn on the lights. Taking off his shoes at the entrance, Dazai made a beeline to the cabinet he kept his sake in, tossing the manila envelope full of photos onto his single table. Maybe if he was lucky, he would be able to drink himself to death and not have to _think_ anymore.

Dazai reached his kitchenette and knelt next to the first cabinet on the left. Opening the door, he pulled out three bottles of sake to start with and moved to sit next to a wall in what would have been his living room if he had ever bothered to put furniture in it. He pulled the cork out of the sake bottle before chugging down the burning liquid.

If only he could just stop _thinking_. Just for a minute, just for a moment. The thoughts wouldn't stop. Not only thoughts about Dostoyevsky and the Agency filled his head, but now thoughts of his father and his bastardized childhood sprung up one after the other. _And they just would not stop._

He never wanted to think about this again. Never wanted to remember the horrors he lived through. It made the hollowness, the sheer _emptiness_ , in him grow to a suffocating level. He was drowning in it, and so he drowned himself in alcohol, hoping it might somehow fill the void deep inside him.

He drank through bottle after bottle until he couldn't hold himself upright any longer, collapsing into a miserable heap on his side. He laid there, eyes drooping in exhaustion, thoughts finally _finally_ muddled enough they didn't haunt him, and curled into a ball as sleep overcame him at last.

And in sleep, dreams of his past surfaced.

* * *

 _Sometimes, when Father finished hurting him, he would let his caretaker comfort him. Not all the time, only every few days when Father was too busy with Port Mafia business to 'spend time' with him. He would accompany Dazai to Mori's examination room to get treated and he stayed with Dazai as he recovered, holding his hand, caressing his hair, and telling him things would be okay. He was Dazai's only friend and he thought of him as more of a father-figure than his real father could ever hope to be. This man, Masao Horiki, never hurt him, never so much as rose his voice to Dazai, and he was always so gentle with him, in a way Father could never achieve no matter how much he tried—memories of pain overshadowing all tenderness he displayed when outside of the torture sessions._

 _Masao would talk to Dazai, whispering comforting words into his ear when he hurt the worst, and make sure he was as well as his situation allowed for, and, when Father permitted it, he even took him out to view the city, something he had never seen before. Dazai liked holding his hand when they did. He liked how safe he felt with Masao and how he didn't have to be afraid of when he would inevitably hurt Dazai next like he was with Father. He often found himself wondering why Masao couldn't have been his father instead, why he had to be born to Touson Shimazaki when Masao cared so much more._

 _Sometimes after a long day, when Dazai could no longer keep his weary eyes open, Masao would let him sit in his lap. His strong arms wrapped around him protectively, rocking him back and forth, and Dazai would think that comfort he felt was what happiness must be. It almost brought a smile to his ever vacant expression and he would bury his face into Masao's shoulder—taking in his warmth and the comforting feeling of his large hands running through his unruly locks—and wish he could stay like this forever. He still had to suffer through 'training' with Father, but being with Masao almost made it bearable. It was the one good thing Father allowed Dazai to have._

 _He hoped it would always be like that, with Masao by his side. As long as he had someone, just_ one person _who truly cared about him and didn't_ hurt _him, Dazai thought he could_ try _to hold on to life, even if only for a moment._

 _Months passed and Dazai's attachment to Masao grew to the point he didn't want to go anywhere without his caretaker. It grew harder and harder for him to be with Father, even when he wasn't actively hurting him, and he pled Father to let him stay with Masao. Promised him he would be very,_ very _good, do everything he said and bear the torture as quietly and bravely as he could if only he would let Dazai stay with Masao when he wasn't training him._

 _This actually seemed to cause Father pause. He stared at Dazai with his penetrating, dark eyes._

" _You want to stay with Horiki?" he asked with his rough voice he tried to smooth out whenever he spoke to his son._

 _Dazai nodded frantically in response to the question, hair flopping around his round eyes, "Yes. Please, Father, ."_

 _He could see Father's eyes darken briefly when he said please, and Dazai flinched at his mistake._

 _Father did not like it when he begged._

 _The darkness fled as soon as it entered his eyes, though, and he seemed to consider the idea._

" _Very well, Osamu, you may stay with Horiki when I am not training you."_

 _Something in his eyes should have sent warning bells throughout Dazai's mind, but he didn't notice in his astonishment at his Father's quick—not to mention surprising—approval._

 _For the first time, Dazai could feel a warmth begin to fill the emptiness he always had deep within him. He gave Father a small, shaky smile, the expression awkward from lack of use, "Thank you, Father."_

 _He soon found himself in Masao's arms again, telling him Father had allowed Dazai to stay with him from now on. Masao ran his hand through Dazai's hair, ruffling it, and took his hand as he lead Dazai to his new living quarters._

For weeks, he lived with Masao and he had never been so light. The hollowness, while still there—always there, threatening to swallow him whole into the depths of its nothingness—receded to the point he could push it to the back of his head temporarily.

 _They went on more drives, when allowed, and not just to the city, but through parks as well. There were so many people and Dazai found it overwhelming. He had never seen so many people before, only really having had contact with Father, Masao, and Mori. When they first left the car to actually walk around, he didn't know how to react to the crowds and so he huddled close to Masao in the hopes it would keep the people at bay, prevent them from touching him._

 _Soon, Dazai got a little more comfortable in the crowds and Masao took him into some of the buildings. He would buy him things sometimes, ice cream or other sweets. Dazai found he liked the treats, especially since he wasn't given much by way of food in the first place and he marveled at how they seemed to melt in his mouth._

 _Then, one day, on a day they usually went on walks, they instead went deeper into the mafia building._

" _Masao," Dazai asked, his tiny hand enveloped by Masao's large one as he pulled him along the corridor, "where are we going?"_

 _Masao didn't answer and he tightened his grip on Dazai's hand._

" _Ow, Masao, that hurts," Dazai winced slightly and blinked at the man in confusion, "what's wrong? Where are we going?"_

 _When Masao still didn't answer, Dazai suddenly didn't feel so safe with Masao after all._

* * *

Atsushi worked hard throughout the day, looking through piles and piles of papers for any other envelopes, any other sign or clue to help them learn more about the situation. The office was in complete chaos as every did the same as Atsushi.

Even as focused as Atsushi was on his task, he couldn't keep his mind from wandering back to Dazai. He had never seen such an expression—or lack thereof—on Dazai's face before and it worried him. It didn't help that Dazai hadn't come back to the office since leaving earlier in the day either.

Dazai could be anywhere right now, and Atsushi had the sudden horrible image of Dazai submerged under a raging river, his body crashing harshly against rocks and water filling his lungs-

"Ah! There's nothing here!" Ranpo's agitated voice brought Atsushi from his morbid thoughts and he turned to look in the shorter man's direction

Ranpo was pacing back and forth, running his hands through his hair in frustration, "Everything was done so meticulously and there's no other evidence to be found! The only thing we have to look at is with Dazai and who _knows_ when he'll come back today if he even does! I can't deduce anything if there is _nothing_ to deduce!"

Ranpo deflated, plopping down into his seat and leaned his head back to look at the ceiling dejectedly, and Atsushi's fist crinkled the paper's he held slightly as his anxiety grew.

If Ranpo couldn't find anything, what help could Atsushi possibly be in this situation? He felt inadequate and couldn't stop himself from thinking he was somehow failing his mentor.

"I was really hoping I could avoid talking to Dazai about this. He's been through enough as it is. This could... really destroy him," Ranpo mumbled, loud enough for the now quiet room to hear, "and maybe, that's the whole _point_ of this in the first place. Maybe all this was done simply to _hurt_ Dazai."

Atsushi tried to think of something encouraging to say, something useful, but nothing came to mind. Fortunately, Yosano didn't seem to have that problem. She went up to Ranpo, extracting herself from the files she sifted through, and put a comforting hand on his shoulder, giving him a small smile when his emerald eyes met her violet ones.

"We'll figure it out, Ranpo. You won't have to talk to him to him alone. We'll do it together and we _won't_ let this destroy him. Not when we are here to help. Right?"

She looked around the room, meeting everyone's eyes and before landing on Atsushi's and, taking in his nod of determination and renewed hope, turned back to Ranpo.

"We won't let this crime go unpunished."

At her words, Ranpo eyes widened in realization, and he abruptly stood up, unwittingly dislodging Yosano's hand from his shoulder, and causing Atsushi to drop his papers in shock, "Of course! It's so obvious, I can't believe I didn't realize it earlier! How could I be so _stupid_?"

Yosano blinked in surprise, allowing her hand to fall back to her side as she asked, "What? What is it, what did you figure out?"

" _Dostoyevsky_ ," Ranpo had a mildly wild look in his eyes as he gripped Yosano's shoulders like it could anchor him to the moment, "it's the only logical conclusion! He's the only one who could accomplish something like this without leaving any kind of evidence and we already know he has some weird obsession with Dazai since he has to ability to _nullify_ all abilities! And isn't that _basically_ what Dostoyevsky wants?! To get rid of all ability users?! Maybe this somehow helps him accomplish that goal!" He separated himself from Yosano and pulled at his hair angrily, "How could I have _missed_ this?! I wasted so much of our time! I should've thought of this _sooner_! How could I have been so _stupid_?!"

Yosano made to refute Ranpo's self-deprecating statements but was beaten to it by the soothing voice of the president.

"You are not at fault for this, Ranpo. You were understandably distraught by the situation as we all were. Do not blame yourself when you have done nothing wrong."

Fukuzawa's words were directed at Ranpo, but Atsushi felt they were meant for everyone. They all blamed themselves for not noticing Dazai's inner anguish sooner and having to have it literally shoved right under their noses before they even realized he hid behind false cheer. Atsushi could tell Fukuzawa himself had some guilt over this, but he would not let that stop him from helping Dazai, and so Atsushi wouldn't either.

"Now that we know Dostoyevsky is behind this, we will be able to defend against him better. For now, go home and get some rest. We will start up again tomorrow and try to get more information from Dazai."

"But President-" Ranpo started to object as he turned to face the president fully, not wanting to rest now that he actually had a starting place.

"No, Ranpo. We are all exhausted and it won't do us any good if we try to do anymore. We need the time to think over this trauma if we really want to help. Go home, you'll be a lot more useful after you sleep. This isn't going to go away in just one night. At least give yourself that," Fukuzawa said, voice firm, but eyes soft and understanding.

It pained Fukuzawa to do this as well, but he knew it would be hard for everyone to think straight when those photos were still so vivid in their minds.

Ranpo opened his mouth to protest again, but quickly thought better of it, and, clenching his teeth, walked out the door in frustration. One look at Fukuzawa had everyone else follow suit. Atsushi hesitated for a moment, but when Kyouka pulled on his sleeve, he gave in, leaving the Agency with Kyouka by his side.

* * *

Atsushi and Kyouka walked towards the apartment in silence, neither knowing what to say and not quite sure voice their thoughts either.

Finally, after the silence became too much, Atsushi spoke, "I don't really know what to do."

Kyouka turned to him imploringly and he continued, "I'm not smart like Ranpo or a doctor like Yosano. I'm not even very practical like Kunikida. There isn't anything I can really do to help Dazai, but I want to. He saved me when I had nowhere else to go and he gave me this family. I just feel like I should be able to do _something_ to return the kindness he's given me. But... I just don't know what to _do_. It's frustrating."

Kyouka gazed intently at Atsushi, causing him to shift uncomfortably and scratch the back of his head, suddenly self-conscious, "...What is it?"

"Isn't being there for him enough?" Kyouka asked in that soft voice of hers, sweet despite its tonelessness.

"Huh?"

"You were always there when I needed you. You didn't do anything special, but you didn't _need_ to. Simply having you there, someone I knew cared about me and only wanted to see me happy, helped more than you could possibly know," affection filled Kyouka's cobalt eyes and a small smile twitched at the corners of her lips, " _You_ saved me in more ways than one. You showed me that I could live in the light if I wanted to, but most of all you believed in me, and that meant the world to me. I think the only thing you need to do for Dazai is to be with him."

Warmth flooded Atsushi to the very core, tears filling his eyes at Kyouka's words, 'I was able to help someone. Maybe I really am worthy of being alive, after all.'

Looking down at the ground as tears start to fall, he sniffles, "Thank you... Kyouka."

Kyouka pulled Atsushi into a tight embrace and Atsushi returned her hug, hiding his face in her hair as he cried, " _Thank you_."

They held onto each other until Atsushi's tears stopped flowing. He pulled away slightly, hands on her shoulders, and gave her a shaky smile. "We should probably head home now. It's getting late."

She nodded, smiling back and they continued on their way.

By the time they got to the Agency apartments, the sun had begun to set. They walked up the stairs and as they passed door after door, Atsushi paused by Dazai's. He stared at the door in consternation before gazing back at Kyouka.

"Do you think Dazai is at home? I'm pretty worried about him. I think we should check on him if he's there."

Kyouka nodded in confirmation before saying, "Yes, I think that is a good idea."

Atsushi nodded back before knocking on Dazai door quietly, "Dazai? Dazai, are you in there?"

He waited for an answer, but when he received none, he knocked once more, "Dazai, it's Atsushi and Kyouka, we just wanted to check in and make sure you're okay."

He still received no response and after waiting for a few minutes with no sound coming through from the other side of the door, he stepped away, turning back to Kyouka.

"I guess he's not home yet."

Atsushi's expression showed concern, but he said nothing more as he headed towards their shared from. Kyouka made to follow him but stopped as she heard a muted thud from Dazai's room.

"Atsushi," she called before he got too far away, "I heard a noise coming from Dazai's room."

She placed her hand on the doorknob as Atsushi came back towards her and opened the door.

They stepped into the room and were greeted by the sight of Dazai curled up on the floor, unconscious. Empty bottles of sake surrounded him and Dazai knocked them down as he thrashed slightly like he was fighting off some sort of monster in his nightmares.

Atsushi rushed to Dazai's side and tried to shake him awake.

"Dazai! Dazai, wake up! Are you okay? Dazai!"

No matter how hard Atsushi shook him, Dazai just would not wake. He tried slapping him to see if that would get more of a response but to no avail. Looking around as though that would help him, his eyes settled on the sake bottles surrounding him and he wondered if those were the reason Dazai would not wake up now.

He turned worried eyes on Kyouka, only to see the expression mirrored on her face. Struggling as he fought to get the words out, Atsushi finally squeaked out, "Kyouka get... get Yosano. Go get Yosano!"

Kyouka wasted no time and swiftly ran out the door to find the doctor. Atsushi turned his attention back to Dazai and could only watch as Dazai began to shiver uncontrollably. Small whimpering noises left his mouth and Atsushi couldn't tell if they were due to pain or fear, but the longer it went on the more frantically Atsushi tried to wake him.

He hated seeing Dazai like this and it scared him more than he would like to admit. Dazai was always so strong and unfazed by anything. He always had a smile on his face and a plan to make everything right again.

Seeing him curled on the floor like this, ill and shaking, possibly afraid if the noises coming from him were any indication, really cemented the terrified child in the photos and Dazai as being the same person.

Of course, Atsushi already knew they were, there was no mistaking his face for any other, but it hadn't really registered as real. Not until this moment, when the shock of it all had worn out and became soul-crushing resignation.

Dazai let out another moan, and finally, Atsushi couldn't take it anymore. He faced the door, looking for any sign of help. When he saw no one, he began yelling.

"Help! Somebody, please! Dazai needs _help_!"

What had felt like hours to Atsushi had really only been a few minutes and by the time he started calling for help, Kyouka and Yosano were only a few feet away from the door. They rushed into the room, wild expressions on their faces, and were soon followed by Kunikida, who had heard Atsushi's shouting.

Yosano's eyes so fell on Dazai and she rushed over, slipping in next to Atsushi and gently pushed him aside to get better access to Dazai. He moved out of the way, instead, standing near the concerned Kyouka and pale-faced Kunikida to watch as Yosano worked.

Before doing anything else, she cast a cursory gaze over Dazai's form, scanning for any sign he had done himself harm. When she saw no blood or any external wound, she started patting him down to make sure she didn't miss anything. Doing so, she couldn't help but notice the clamminess of his skin.

'Probably from the alcohol,' she thought, feeling his forehead and confirming he had a fever.

Looking back at the small group of people still hovering in the room as she worked, she said,"Check around his apartment, see if there are any empty medicine bottles. We need to make sure he didn't take anything else with all this alcohol," turning her attention back to Dazai as he continued to shiver with fever, she added, "This could be extremely dire if he did."

Kunikida, Kyouka and Atsushi immediately ran off to do as Yosano instructed, leaving her to watch over Dazai. She stroked the hair from away from his face as he moaned again and took the time to really study him. She first noticed his pallor, skin drained of all color except the red on his cheeks from fever. Yosano then noted the dark circles clinging to the bottom of his eyelids, signifying many days of sleepless nights and wondered how often he slept in the first place. After what she'd seen, Yosano wouldn't be surprised if he never slept more than a few hours at a time.

So many concerns filled her head as she watched Dazai and she didn't know where to even start to begin helping him. These problems have been so deeply buried for so long, Yosano feared they could never be healed. Not completely.

She wasn't convinced she was the right person to help him, but that wouldn't stop her from trying.

Soon enough, Kunikida, Atsushi and Kyouka returned to the room.

"There wasn't anything else in his apartment, just the alcohol," Kunikida informed her, the first thing he said since seeing Dazai in this state.

"That's good then, we would have had to take him somewhere with medical equipment if he had taken any drugs. As it is, it doesn't look like Dazai was trying to kill himself. This time, at any rate. He just drank until he passed out, luckily he didn't give himself alcohol poisoning in the process," Yosano carefully untangle her fingers from Dazai's hair and stood to better address the other occupants in the room, "We should probably have someone stay with him though, just in case. Kunikida, can you take Dazai to his room?"

Kunikida nodded and crouched next to Dazai. With a gentleness not usually associated with the stern man, Kunikida maneuvered his arms underneath Dazai's legs and back, lifting him as gingerly as he could. He carried Dazai to his room and slowly placed him on his futon, doing his best not to jostle his coworker to much. Once Kunikida laid Dazai on the futon, he removed his coat, folding it up next to his pillow, and pulled the blankets up to cover the fitfully sleeping man. He quietly left the room and rejoined the others in the living room, where they all sat quietly for several minutes before anyone spoke.

It was Atsushi who broke the silence, in the end, looking to Yosano as he spoke, "I'll stay with Dazai tonight."

"I will as well," Kyouka quickly inputted, not wanting to leave Dazai either.

Yosano smiled warmly at the two children, her eyes softening slightly from the worry that had taken residence there since seeing the photos, "That is a good idea. Check on him every so often and try to keep his fever down. If it gets worse, contact me immediately, understand?"

As they both nodded in confirmation, Yosano got up from her knelt position and started picking up the empty sake bottles, "It might be wise to remove the rest of the alcohol from Dazai's house as well."

Kunikida started helping her with the bottles and together they rid Dazai's apartment of its alcohol. As they cleaned up, Yosano noticed the envelope on the only piece of furniture Dazai had in his room. She picked it up and, peeking through the top, confirmed it to be the photos. She quickly tucked it under her arm, knowing Dazai would not willingly give them to her, with the plan to bring it back to the office.

Soon, all the bottles were cleaned up and removed from the room. Ready to leave now that there was nothing else left for them to do, Yosano waved goodbye to Kyouka and Atsushi, "Take care of him for us, I'll be back to check up on you guys in the morning."

"We will, thank you, Yosano," Atsushi said as he waved back, trying to smile through his worry for his mentor.

Yosano understood his worry and, honestly, she could feel her own worry eating away at her, but she pushed it aside to deal with later and said, "Don't worry, Atsushi, Dazai will be fine. We're here to make sure of it."

Atsushi's smile became a little more genuine, and Yosano and Kunikida finally left.

As soon as the door closed, Yosano turned to Kunikida, "You've been very quiet."

Kunikida didn't answer for a moment, but he eventually shifted his attention to Yosano, revealing his haunted eyes, "I've never seen something so devastating. It goes against everything in my Ideal about how children should be treated, about how _anyone_ should be treated. I can't fathom how anybody could be so cruel as to do that to a mere _child_. Children are supposed to be protected not... not _brutalized_."

His face contorted in angered pain, trying to comprehend how someone could be so callous, so _heartless_ to another human being.

Yosano watched Kunikida for a moment, sadness covering her like an unwanted blanket as her thoughts turned to all the horrors she's seen in her profession, grip unconsciously tightening on the envelope under her arm.

"I've seen some pretty horrible things done to people who didn't deserve it. I've tried to find some explanation, some _reason_ for these abuses, but the truth is, sometimes there _isn't_ a reason. Sometimes, people are just evil and hurt others simply because they _want_ to. The only thing we can do is try to counteract that evil with some good of our own. And that's why I became a doctor. Despite everything I've seen, I still believe that the good in the world outweighs the evil, we just have to look for it and help when we can. Fight for your ideal, Kunikida, but don't despair when something happens to break it."

Yosano's words resonated within Kunikida, repeating over and over again until they stuck. Yes, the world doesn't always follow his Ideal and bad things happen to good, innocent people, but maybe... maybe he could be there to help put back the pieces when everything falls apart.

Maybe, he could be there to help Dazai, now that he knew what he hid behind those silly grins and suicide attempts he had tried—and succeeded—to play off as a joke. Kunikida wouldn't let himself be fooled by Dazai's cheerful masks again. He owed him that much.

Kunikida smiled weakly at Yosano, "Thank you, Yosano, I think that was something I needed to hear."

She smiled back at him before looking down at the manila envelope, "I just hope I'll be able to help Dazai as well."

With that Kunikida and Yosano went their separate ways to their rooms, thoughts troubled as they turned back to their suicidal coworker.

* * *

 **A/N:** Masao Horiki is a character from No Longer Human. He is actually the friend of the main character Yozo and he didn't do anything to help when Yozo's wife was being attacked.

Like always, tell me what you think and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! By the way, does anyone know how Akutagawa refers Chuuya? Does he call him by his first name or his last? Anyway, thanks for reading!


	4. Shattered Illusions

The long ride down the glass elevator left Chuuya with a lot of nervous energy he had no way of alleviating. Even the captivating view of Yokohama through the spotless glass walls Chuuya usually found so relaxing did nothing to calm his nerves. He kept thinking of all the things Dazai had hidden from him. All the pain he pushed aside and endured in silence while Chuuya simply thought Dazai as heartless and cruel. Images of a young Dazai drenched in sanguine pools and angry scars flared through him and he itched for the comforting drag of a cigarette.

Chuuya let out a long breath as he waited for the elevator to reach ground floor and when it did, he walked towards the hidden stairs leading to the underground levels where interrogations and sensitive files were held. Before he made it very far, Chuuya was intercepted by a very frenzied Akutagawa.

"Chuuya," he said as he came up to Chuuya, seeming like he had run all the way there with his ever-present scowl planted firmly on his face, "I heard Dazai was here. He infiltrated the base, Where is he, is he still here?"

"He's not here anymore," Chuuya answered, watching as Akutagawa's expression fell into a deeper scowl.

Rather than continue on his way, Chuuya stopped to study Akutagawa for a moment, wondering if he should share what he'd learned with the younger man. Akutagawa had always been deeply devoted to Dazai; always searching for his approval. Even after Dazai defected, that hadn't changed.

Chuuya wondered just how deep that devotion went.

Before Akutagawa could storm off in frustrated anger, Chuuya stopped him with a simple question, "Akutagawa, how would you like to help Dazai?"

Chuuya gauged Akutagawa's expression as he turned back to face Chuuya in shock.

"Help... Dazai? I can... how? How can I help Dazai?" Akutagawa stumbled over his own words as he tried to comprehend Chuuya's meaning. How could _he_ help Dazai? What could Dazai _possibly_ need help with? He was _Dazai_! Untouchable, impervious, powerful Dazai.

Once he got past the shock of the question, Akutagawa stopped and really thought about what Chuuya asked. If he really could do something to help the man who'd saved his life, then he would whatever it took to do so.

"I... yes. Yes, I want to help. What do you need me to do?"

Chuuya let a smile creep onto his face, pleased he had judged Akutagawa correctly and continued his way towards the lower levels.

"Follow me," he called over his shoulder and Akutagawa followed without another word.

Silence filled the space between them as Chuuya and Akutagawa walked down the stairway and then through halls they as headed towards another stairway; this one leading to the real entrance of their underground base. The underground levels had been built in such a way it would be hard to navigate without prior knowledge of the setup. They didn't want just anyone stumbling into the place and figuring out what they did here.

The farther in they walked, the louder it became. Several interrogations occurred at any given time and screaming could be heard every few minutes. Soon, they made it to the lowest—and safest—level. Here, they kept all of their records and here they would find Dazai's. How easy that would be was another question altogether.

Chuuya and Akutagawa entered the large file room and immediately Chuuya started giving instructions.

"Search through the files and books, Akutagawa, look for anything that mentions Dazai, anything at all," Chuuya order as he went to the closest filing cabinet.

Akutagawa paused for a moment before moving to do as Chuuya wanted. He went to the cabinet next to the one Chuuya searched through before asking, "How will this help, Dazai?"

"I'll tell you when we find what we're looking for," Chuuya murmured distractedly as he sifted through page after page.

They did this for hours, going through all document and desperately searching for any mention of Dazai. So far, they turned up nothing important, only mission reports of Mori's time as boss. There was such a lack of information regarding Dazai before Mori Chuuya suspected a cover-up. It didn't surprise Chuuya, Dazai's father being the old mafia boss and probably wanting to keep what he did a secret, but it did frustrate him. Looking at Akutagawa and his deepening scowl, Chuuya knew things weren't going well for him either.

Just when throwing things around in anger started to sound like a good idea, Chuuya found a box hidden behind everything far back in the room with the name Touson Shimazaki written on it. Chuuya pulled the box from off the shelf and lowered it to the floor before rifling through it, drawing Akutagawa's attention. He came over to Chuuya as he started to search through the contents of the box.

"Why are you looking through that box? I thought we were trying to find information on Dazai," Akutagawa questioned, quiet coughs enunciating his annoyance as his patience wore thin with hours of fruitless searching.

Chuuya briefly glanced at him before turning his attention back to the box in front of him, "Touson Shimazaki was the old boss, as well as Dazai's father. If we're going to find any information on Dazai, it's going to be in here."

Akutagawa stood still for a moment, stunned. He had known Dazai was an important member of the mafia, anyone could see that just by being in the same room as him for more than a minute. But the _son_ of the previous _mafia boss_?! One would think Mori would have tried to kill Dazai in order to keep his current position, not attempt to bring him back into the fold.

Chuuya continued sifting through the box and as he did so, he found several old journals and tapes, each labeled meticulously. Picking up the journal closest to him, Chuuya read the title aloud, " _Osamu, Age Five._ "

As soon as the words left his mouth, Chuuya felt a heavy, ominous weight settle in the pit of his stomach. He had a terrible feeling he knew what these journals contained. He opened the first page anyway, needing to know what these journals contained almost more than he dreaded it.

He turned to the first page and continued to read it out loud.

" _Osamu is now five years old and I believe he is ready for his training to start. I thought long and hard about how to best protect my son and I have decided that in order for him to be safe, he must be impervious to everything that can hurt him. He must be able to withstand the harshest of tortures and so I will torture him in a controlled manner until he is desensitized to pain. No one will get to him through torture, no matter the kind they try to invoke._

 _Hunger is always a pressing ailment, always at the back of your mind, eating away at you until you give in to it. It is a stain that will only bring about pain and weakness. I will start his training there and he will learn to endure it. Endure it until he can no longer feel the agony of hunger. In order to do that, I will starve him. He needs to be unaffected by hunger and so he will have to get used to the gnawing feeling. Osamu will starve until he no longer feels the need to eat, and is no longer controlled by its tempting call, and only then will he finally be free. It may take years to accomplish, but it needs to be done. For Osamu's sake._ "

Chuuya's voice trailed off at the end of the entry, horrified and disturbed beyond measure. He felt himself becoming sick just from reading one entry; he couldn't imagine how bad the others would be. Chuuya saw the pictures, he didn't need to read about a madman's justification on why he did it. Even though he probably should continue to read the journals if he wanted to know more about what had been done to Dazai, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not now.

Akutagawa didn't have the same reservations as Chuuya and when it became apparent to him Chuuya would not continue reading, he snatched the book from his hands. With the journal now in his possession, Akutagawa rapidly flipped through the pages, only stopping when he reached the last fourth. With an odd expression on his face, one of fearful denial and angry disbelief, he read more of the journal, hoping to prove he hadn't heard what he thought he had.

" _It has been months now since I have allowed Osamu into the care of Masao Horiki. Months for him to develop a deep attachment to his caretaker. He believes Horiki cares for him, even loves him. Perhaps it had been a mistake to allow Horiki into Osamu's life originally. The only contact he had with other people before now was Mori, and Horiki has corrupted Osamu with false love and tenderness, but this will end up being a good lesson for him, I think. I have allowed this interaction simply to show Osamu no one cares about him. No one loves him, no one can except for me. He will see how easily Horiki will turn on him and how he will not hesitate to torture him if ordered. He will see how little it bothers Horiki to hurt him and he will know only I will ever truly love him. Never again will Osamu be tricked by the so-called kindness of others. I will record the results of this experiment on video._ "

As Akutagawa finished reading in a shaky voice, Chuuya numbly searched through the box. The journal said something about a video... There were many videos mixed with the journals and files. As he fished through the box to find the right video, his hand brushed against _more_ photographs. Reluctantly, he picked them up, quickly looking them over. He noticed that these were the exact photos he had seen in Mori's office earlier. This paused all thoughts on the video for the moment as he thought about the implications of this. How could these pictures be _here_ if they were currently in Dazai's possession? How could there be two sets of the _exact same_ _pictures_? It just wasn't possible... not unless it was some sort of ability.

Chuuya's train of thought derailed as a sharp intake of breath sounded behind him.

'Damn,' Chuuya thought, quickly turning to see Akutagawa's rapidly paling face, 'I forgot he hasn't seen these before.'

"Akutagawa," Chuuya started slowly as he stands to fully face the younger man, "are you okay?"

Akutagawa doesn't respond as he continued to look wide-eyed through the photos, growing more and more devastated as he goes. His hands started to shake. He's not sure what emotion he's experiencing, but he knew he couldn't think straight. He felt like his world was falling down around him and he didn't know how to stop it. The more he found out about Dazai, the worse everything became. The amount of sheer _pain_ he saw on his mentor's face in these photos crushed him more than he could fathom, bringing up his own painful memories of life before Dazai saved him. Before he could get lost in his spiraling emotion, a hand on his shoulders grounded him to the present, reminding him Chuuya had been trying to get his attention for the past five minutes.

"-gawa, snap out of it!" Chuuya shook his shoulder firmly, trying to get his attention.

When he noticed that Akutagawa's attention focused back on him, he asked again, "You okay now?"

Akutagawa nodded shakily, handing the photos back to the executive as he tried to calm himself down by pretending it never happened, "Did you find the video?"

Chuuya stared at Akutagawa for a moment longer, determining if he should keep pushing or just drop it before deciding he could deal with it later. Right now, he had a task he needed to accomplish and he couldn't afford to get distracted anymore. "Not yet," he told the younger man, pretending he didn't notice his still pallid complexion. He knelt next to the box once again and put the photos back where he found them before going through the videos once more. It disturbed Chuuya at just how _many_ videos he found in the box. Videos he _knew_ contained all the many horrible ways Dazai had been hurt.

Finally, after digging through dozens of journals, and files, and videos he found one he found promising. This video was labeled _Osamu: Horiki Experiment_ and since that had been the name of the man in the entry, Chuuya thought it must be the right one. He was almost afraid to watch it, knowing that nothing good would come of it, but he had already come this far and he couldn't turn back now, no matter how much he wanted to.

"You see a VHS player in here? This thing is old," Chuuya waved the video as he gazed back at Akutagawa, cocking an elegant eyebrow.

They both moved to the shelves and there they found an old television and a VHS player. They quickly set it up and plugged in the video, sitting quiet apprehension as they waited for the video to start.

The video started with a pitch black room, only coming into focus after the camera had a chance to adjust to the darkness and reveal a red glow somewhere in what Chuuya was the middle of the empty room. Silence surrounded the dark room, creating an eerie atmosphere Chuuya couldn't explain and screaming with bad vibes. The red light intensified and illuminated the door directly in front of the camera, back around 20 feet from where the camera stood. In the darkness, Chuuya thought the room empty until he caught sight of movement at the side of the camera and he realized someone was actually in there. He quickly recognized Touson Shimazaki and immediately an angry scowl made its way onto his face. And then he heard a voice from the other side of the door.

" _Ow, Masao, that hurts_ ," the voice was soft and dulcet in a way only a child could achieve. Chuuya could hear an innocence to it he knew was taken from him far too soon, " _what's wrong? Where are we going?_ "

Shortly following the young Dazai's question, the door opened, revealing a man in his mid 30's. He measured to around 6'0" and had short brown hair. As he walked into the room, a little boy followed in after him. He had a thinness to him that showed Shimazaki had kept to his earlier plan of starving his son. Dazai was so _small_ , so _tiny_ Chuuya feared the man named Horiki would break him just by the tight hold he had on his fragile little hand.

Horiki dragged Dazai in the room behind him. Chuuya watched as the boy stumbled, trying to keep up and looking around the empty room. He stopped his cursory of the room when he spotted his father and he froze all movement altogether. On the screen, Dazai stared at the cold, unsympathetic face of his father and watched as he nodded towards Horiki. Chuuya saw the confused panic on Dazai's face as he guessed the nod his father gave meant nothing good.

" _What... what are we doing here?_ " His voice trembled slightly as faced his caretaker and he started pulling his arm, trying to get Horiki to let go of him, " _Why did you bring me here, Masao? I thought we were going out, it's not time for my training yet. Why are we here? Let me go, you're hurting me! Masao!_ "

Dazai's voice became more panicked as he spoke and his words started to mesh together with the speed he continued to spew them out, almost over the point they were too fast for Chuuya to understand clearly. Masao didn't let up, however, and he proceeded to drag Dazai until he stood near the red light, under the watchful eye of Shimazaki.

Suddenly, fluorescent lights snapped on overhead, chasing away the shadows and showing the contents of the room. As his eyes adjusted to the abrupt change in lighting, Chuuya realized that the room wasn't as empty as he originally thought. He saw a paraphernalia of tools on the ground near Dazai: pliers, mallets, knives, even a red hot poker placed over the burning coals in a fire pit he had somehow failed to identify as the source of the red glow. Dazai's attention immediately went to the objects on the floor and he started his struggling anew, trying to escape the man he thought cared about him.

" _Please, Masao, what are you doing?! I don't want to do this! Let go!_ Please _, let go!_ " His voice cracked as tears started to form at the back of his eyes, but he appeared to ignore them as he tried to pry Horiki's hand off of his wrist with his other tiny fist.

His attempts were abruptly put on hold, however, as Horiki backhanded him, temporarily ceasing all struggle from the boy. Dazai stood, completely shocked at the treatment.

Chuuya guessed Horiki had never raised a hand against him before and was trying to figure out what had changed. He had to clench his fists until they drew blood to stop himself from smashing the TV down to dust. This video did nothing to quell the mounting anger building deep inside him, but he forced himself to watch it anyway, all the while glaring at the screen. He could only imagine how Akutagawa was fairing at the moment.

" _Proceed, use whatever you wish on him_ ," Shimazaki commanded, gesturing toward the tools on the ground and drawing Chuuya's attention back to the events on the screen.

Following the order, Horiki made use of Dazai's sudden stillness and removed the boy's shirt, revealing bandages already wrapped around his small frame. Dazai had started to shake and tears fell faster down his face. His expression was one of resignation and it looked as though he knew what would happen next, and still, no sobs or sounds of any kind escaped the boy. Next, Horiki unwound the bandages, exposing still healing burns on his arms and back, and abruptly, Chuuya determined this must have happened relatively close to the blowtorch photo.

'They didn't even give him time to _heal_ ,' Chuuya seethed and if he gritted his teeth anymore, he just might break them.

Soon, all bandages were off and Horiki forced Dazai to his knees as he reached for the poker. The next thing Chuuya knew, his ears rang horribly with the screams of agonizing pain as Horiki pressed the poker onto Dazai's tiny back. It covered the entire width of his skin and Chuuya watched, aghast, as he lifted the poker and placed it on him again.

He did this over and over until every inch of Dazai's back boiled red above already angry burns, intensifying and building on top of them rather than replacing. Dazai's screamed echoed through Chuuya's head: pleading for Horiki to stop, begging him for _forgiveness_ , _apologizing_ for angering him and asking what he had done _wrong_ , as though this could somehow be _his_ fault.

Just when Chuuya thought it couldn't get any worse, Horiki placed the poker back into the fire pit and instead grabbed the mallet from off the floor. He turned back to Dazai—bent over completely now and trying to hold himself up with his thin arms as sobs shook his entire frame. He stepped closer to the boy and rose the mallet high above his head before slamming it down onto the fragile bones of Dazai's left shin. The crack of bone sounded loudly in the room before being entirely eclipsed by Dazai's baying shriek. It encompassed all other sound, both in the video and within Chuuya's head. He watched Dazai drop onto his side, cradling his damaged leg to his chest as he wailed in pure anguish.

Horiki made to strike him again with the heavy mallet, but Shimazaki stopped him with a raised hand before approaching Dazai. He knelt next to the suffering boy before gently gathering Dazai into to his arms, shushing him softly as he did.

" _Now, now, Osamu. I've got you_ ," He pet Dazai's hair, rocking slightly in what Chuuya thought was supposed to be comforting, " _see, didn't I tell you? You can't trust anyone but me, my precious Osamu. Only I truly care and love you._ "

Dazai began to quiet as he grew used to the intense pain and Chuuya could literally see his eyes dull slightly, losing some of the light there from what remained of his innocence. He could see the tenseness of Dazai's shoulders as Shimazaki held him and knew he found no comfort in the man's touch.

" _Everyone will betray you, torture you, at just an order from me. They wouldn't even think twice about it, Horiki didn't. He was all for it, excited even. He was never your friend, Osamu, and he doesn't care about you. Just look at him._ "

Chuuya turned his attention to Masao Horiki and he saw that Shimazaki was right. Horiki looked like he _enjoyed_ what he just had done to a _child,_ a _toddler_. He had a sick gleam in his eyes, as though he craved for the next time he could hurt Dazai. That _bastard_ had pretended to care a loud Dazai simply so that it would hurt more when he betrayed him. Looking back at Dazai, he could tell Dazai saw the same thing in the man as Chuuya did. And it crushed him to the core.

Shimazaki spoke again, trying to make his voice soothing, but only succeeding in making it sickening instead, " _There is no such thing as friends in this world. People will pretend. They will try to trick you, try to get close, but you must not fall for will only hurt you, in the end, my son. The only way to prevent this is to hurt them first._ "

At these words, Shimazaki pulled a gun out of his clothes and shot Horiki right in the forehead. Dazai screamed, reaching for Horiki in desperation, but being held back by the arms of his father.

Sobs renewed, Dazai turned back to his father. He clutched his sleeve, and with a broken voice asked, " _Why, Father, why did you kill him? He did what you told him to do, so_ why?"

Dazai's father caressed his sweat-soaked hair once more and smiling a true smile, as messed up as that was in this situation, he simply replied with, " _I killed him because he hurt you, Osamu. No one hurts you and gets away with it._ "

With that, Shimazaki picked up his broken, sobbing son and left as the video faded to black.

Chuuya sat as still as he could, breathing through his nose slowly as he worked to calm himself down, both from the rage and the terror he felt after having watched that video. It had been worse than Chuuya imagined. Letting your son grow attached to someone only to crush that trust and love by having him tortured by that very person was beyond heartless, and frankly, it explained Dazai's aversion to letting anyone close. He always kept people at arm's length away emotionally, you could see it in the way he treated people. Even when he wasn't being actively cold, you could always feel this distance when he talked to you, like he had a shield around his heart and he wouldn't open it for anyone.

That's what had always frustrated Chuuya so much about Dazai. He just wouldn't let Chuuya be his friend, his partner in his many plans, yes, but not his friend. Whenever he got too close to cracking that shield he hid behind, Dazai would pull away and do something to piss him off, making him forget that he actually _wanted_ to be his friend.

Even with all his flaws, and despite half the time he truly wanted to kill him, Chuuya _liked_ Dazai and it frustrated him to no end Dazai kept pushing him away. Especially since he knew Dazai liked him as well. He could see it in his eyes whenever they bickered. A little light sparked in his dim brown orbs, making him look just a little bit alive.

And now Chuuya knew why.

Dazai, even if only on a subconscious level, feared Chuuya, or anyone else he let close, would hurt him like Masao Horiki. And seeing how he had been isolated for most of his life, only having had contact with three people, all of whom had _hurt_ him, he had no way of knowing there were people who wouldn't. He protected himself in the only way he knew how, by withdrawing. Hell, with all the torture he'd been through, he probably feared all kind of human interaction and not just the emotional kind.

As he thought on it, Chuuya realized Dazai never really liked to be touched either. He would step out of the way when someone tried to place their hand on his shoulder or, if he didn't react fast enough, he would break contact as soon as it would seem natural to do so. And sometimes, Chuuya thought he would see him flinch, but he always just passed it off as his imagination, thinking Dazai had no reason to hate being touched. Dazai would also never initiate any physical contact unless he wanted to intentionally piss someone off, preferring to keep his distance and found any excuse not to touch anyone.

Dazai had all these glaring problems Chuuya had never realized before and he _hated_ himself for missing them. Most of all, he hated Shimazaki.

The worst part of all of this was Shimazaki's motivation for hurting Dazai.

Chuuya had thought Shimazaki was trying to create a killing machine out of Dazai, trying to torture the human out of him and make something monstrous, but after reading those journals and watching that video, Chuuya realized he did it out of some sort of twisted love. He _genuinely_ believed he was helping Dazai by what he did and, somehow, that just made everything so much worse.

Chuuya could understand it if he tortured Dazai to create a weapon he could later use, but for him to torture Dazai because he thought it would _protect_ him? That Chuuya could never hope to wrap his mind around. It sickened Chuuya to think about how twisted, how inherently _wrong_ , a person's mind had to be in order to come up with an idea so messed up. At this point, Chuuya was more surprised about how _sane_ Dazai came out of it all.

While Chuuya dealt with his emotions, Akutagawa had his own he needed to work through. Before today, Akutagawa thought Dazai was invincible and couldn't be seriously hurt. Sure, Dazai always seemed to be injured in some way back when he had been part of the mafia, but that never stopped him. It didn't even seem to slow him down. He would continue training Akutagawa just as harshly, just as cold as he always did. Before, he would have murdered anyone who even suggested that Dazai wasn't as invulnerable as Akutagawa believed.

Now though... now he knew Dazai _had_ been hurt, maybe even irreparably. Now that he knew what had happened to his mentor, the damaged he suffered showed clearly in Akutagawa's training. What Akutagawa saw as severe, insurmountable training, Dazai saw as merciful. He wasn't trying to be cruel to Akutagawa. He wasn't even really trying to hurt him. He was simply training him in the only way he knew how. And to Dazai, who lived through torture for years while being told it was _training_ , it had been the best he could do.

Dazai thought training had to be mindlessly cruel like his had been, but even with that limited knowledge of training, he still treated Akutagawa better than he had been. At least with Dazai's training, Akutagawa actually had a _chance_ to avoid pain and learn what Dazai had been trying to teach, even if it was very slim. From everything Akutagawa had learned of his mentor's life, he never even had that much.

With how often Dazai talked about suicide and all his many failed attempts, Akutagawa had assumed it must have been a joke. Someone as capable and cunning as Dazai would have been able to kill themselves by now if they really had meant it and yet here Dazai remained. He had never been there for any of Dazai's real attempts, hadn't seen the aftermath of them or the desperation in Dazai's eyes when he realized he had survived them, and so he didn't know just how serious he had been. But he knew for certain that someone couldn't go through something like what he had seen and not have serious issues after it. It made him think that, maybe, Dazai really did want to die and, for whatever reason, he just couldn't manage to.

None of this excused what Dazai had done to him. None of it made it right, or even okay. It still had been cruel and unfair and there were many ways Dazai could have done things differently to teach Akutagawa to control his ability without the abuse. But it did explain it and now Akutagawa understood Dazai's reasoning and knew he simply did not know any better.

It was a strange thing to think about his mentor, but it was the truth, he _hadn't_ known better. He hadn't known what he did to Akutagawa was wrong and that wasn't really his fault. Dazai had been horribly abused and didn't know some basic, fundamental things that were obvious to everyone else, but he still had to live with the consequences of that, just like Akutagawa did. And maybe, with this new knowledge and understanding, Akutagawa could begin to forgive the harsh treatment he had received at the hands of his savior. He could try to forgive the abuse, but nothing would ever justify it.

With barely a word to each other, Chuuya and Akutagawa left the record room. Chuuya had taken the video out of the VHS player, putting it back in the box and carried the box with him. They walked silently back through the corridors and went their separate ways as they reached ground level. Chuuya held a firm grip on the box as he made his way to his apartment, only nodding slightly when someone addressed him.

He soon entered his apartment, taking his shoes off at the door before walking farther into his apartment. He tossed the box onto one of his leather couches, not able to deal what else it contained at the moment, and headed straight for his bathroom. He turned on the hot water, not waiting for it to heat up all the way as he stood under the shower head. He stood there for a long time as the steaming water beat down on his skin, hands pressed taut against the tiled wall with his head bowed, and pretended he wasn't crying for his friend.

* * *

 **A/N:** Just so everyone is clear, I do not condone what Dazai did to Akutagawa. It was wrong, even if he didn't know any better. By the way, do you think I should up the rating? Is this too violent for a T rating? I hope you enjoyed and please, tell me what you think!


	5. Passed the Point of Exhaustion

**I just wanted to thank all my guest reviewers since I can't respond to your comments. Thank you for your support!**

* * *

Dazai awoke feeling sluggish, his body heavy, and experiencing a massive headache. He laid there, completely still, and waited for his mind to clear. It took him a while before he became fully aware of himself—a lot longer than he would have liked—and even then a fog still clung persistently to the edges of his consciousness, causing his thought processes to be agonizingly slow. He wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing yet, considering yesterday's events.

That was, perhaps, why Dazai only now felt the weight of two heavy somethings on either side of him. He spent a moment trying to figure out what they could be, but nothing came to him as he tried to get his brain to work properly.

Well.

That sucked. It looked like he was going to have to use his eyes after all. Joy. He had been hoping to avoid that for. His eyes were going to hate him for this

As he thought, as soon as he opened his eyes light attacked them, temporarily blinding him with its brightness and causing the pain in his already pounding head to intensify. He quickly closed his eyes again, suppressing a moan before trying again more cautiously. After several attempts, Dazai finally managed to keep them open for more than a few seconds and shifted until he could see what laid on his arms.

White invaded his vision and for a moment Dazai thought his headache had decided to mess with his vision again. Blinking a few times, he realized the whiteness was in fact hair. Atsushi's hair to be exact.

'What's Atsushi doing in my room?' Dazai thought after a moment of staring before turning to look at his other side to found Kyouka lying there.

Both of them were fast asleep and curled around him as though he were their favorite teddy bear. As he laid there, confused and bewildered, he felt their body heat seeping into his skin already clammy skin and suddenly he was suffocating. Dazai shifted under his covers, trying to maneuver them off of him and untangle himself from the two children without waking them up. Things did not go as planned and when he so much as twitched one of his arms, both teens shot up like they were being attacked.

They quickly looked around the room to see what had woken them up before their attention fell on Dazai and soon noticed that his eyes were open.

"Dazai! Are you alright? How do you feel?" Atsushi fired off in quick secession, eyes filled with concern and anxiousness.

Kyouka wasn't much better. She looked so worried, her eyes seemed to glimmer with forming tears. Dazai wasn't prepared for their overt concern and he didn't know what to do. Emotions were definitely not his strong suit—seeing as he didn't experience emotions himself—and he had no idea what to do with the ones directed at him. If Kyouka started to cry he didn't know how he would deal with it; he couldn't even help Atsushi when the headmaster of his orphanage died.

In an attempt to appease their concern, Dazai forced himself to sit up through the heaviness of his limbs, being careful to hide his discomfort, and faked a broad, undisturbed grin, "I'm completely fine, no need to worry, see?"

They didn't look convinced at all and gave him a rather unimpressed look as they watched him with discerning eyes.

Instead of acknowledging their doubting stares, he adopted a puzzled look he did not feel and asked, "What are you two doing in my room anyway, hm? You have a perfectly good room next door, I believe."

Atsushi and Kyouka shared a look before turning back to face Dazai as Atsushi addressed him, "We came to check on you last night after... well. You know. We tried knocking on your door and when you didn't answer we figured you weren't home yet. We were about to go to our own rooms when Kyouka heard a noise. Your door was unlocked so we came in and you didn't look very good. We couldn't leave you alone so we decided to stay here to make sure you were okay."

Dazai guessed as much, he did end up drinking a lot and if he looked as bad as he felt, he couldn't really blame the two for their worry, as unnecessary as it was.

"Well," he started, smile softening into something closer to real than his earlier grin, "that was very kind of you, but I only drank too much. There really wasn't a need for you to spend the night here and you really don't need to stay here any longer. I'm fine-"

The sudden wave of dizziness belied the truth of his words as he found himself nearly toppling to the floor, only being stopped by the hands of Kyouka and Atsushi. His headache reminded him of its presence as it flashed to life, causing nausea to flow through him. He placed his hand over his mouth and clenched his eyes shut, not wanting to vomit on poor Kyouka as he slumped against her.

"You are _not_ fine and we are not leaving you alone until you feel better," Kyouka stated with such conviction and firmness, Dazai knew nothing he said would change her mind.

Dazai could only nod in resignation as both teens helped him lay back down on his futon. Lying down like this eased the ache of his head and did wonders for calming his rebelling stomach, but he didn't like the vulnerability of the position; didn't like being vulnerable in front of the children he worked so hard to protect.

Once he was situated, he opened his eyes again just in time to see Kyouka wring out a wet cloth and place it on his head. He reached for it and opened his mouth to ask about it, but Kyouka beat him to it.

"You still have a slight fever, this will help."

Huh. Now that she mentioned it, Dazai _did_ feel feverish. It was extremely hot in here and because of his already mentioned discomforts, he had simply attributed it to drink, but a fever made much more sense. He found it odd he hadn't realized it early, but then he was never very good at determining when he was ill. He usually pushed through it regardless; he couldn't really afford not to in the Mafia and with _Father_.

It took him a moment to notice Atsushi had been talking to him and when he did, he looked at Atsushi, and blinking in an attempt to focus, intelligently replied with, "What?"

Atsushi furrowed his brows, worry flooding back into his eyes as he leaned towards Dazai, "I asked if you were hungry."

Was he hungry? Dazai thought about it, but he couldn't really tell. It had been a long time since he had been able to feel hunger, almost 12 years now. Ever since his Father decided to rid him of the 'crippling sensation' all those years ago, he could honestly say he hadn't been hungry in a way he could feel. His body still needed food, of course, but he often forgot and went days without eating. The only reason he even remembered to eat at all was because his stomach would growl angrily when he went too long without and he would start to feel fatigued and dizzy.

Dazai tried to remember the last time he ate, but he simply couldn't recall, no matter how much he thought on it. Dazai knew he should eat, knew he needed to if he wanted to continue to function, except he couldn't help thinking it was pointless. Why waste good food on someone who wanted to die anyway. However, one look at Atsushi, his face expectant and filled with the want to help, and Dazai could not say no.

"Only just a little bit," he claimed and winced when his stomach decided that moment to give him away, growling loudly to proclaim its dissatisfaction at being starved.

Atsushi smiled at the noise, getting up off of the floor to head towards the door.

"I'll go make you something then."

* * *

Atsushi made his way to Dazai's kitchenette and quickly found the fridge. He opened it, expecting to find some sort of food in its confines, only to be greeted an empty fridge, save for the sole sake bottle Dazai had failed to drink the night before. He looked around the fridge and found it strangely clean, almost as though it had never seen use. That couldn't be possible though, could it? Dazai had lived here for four years since joining the Agency so he would have to have used the fridge at some point during that time, right? Atsushi would have thought that Dazai had merely cleaned the fridge recently except Dazai really didn't strike Atsushi as the cleaning type.

Atsushi closed the fridge, still crouching in front of it, and looked across Dazai's apartment. He once again noted how empty it was. Devoid of anything signifying someone lived here, excluding the ominous stains that looked suspiciously like blood. His apartment was as empty as his refrigerator and Atsushi didn't know what to think about that. He moved on to the cupboard and draws of the kitchen, hoping to found some source of food within the place, but that too came up with nothing edible, finding only a few plates, utensils, and cups. Every drawer, cupboard, and cabinet was bare. Frowning, Atsushi went back to Dazai's room, the only place in the apartment that showed someone lived there.

Dazai was still lying down, nodding along as Kyouka spoke to him when Atsushi stepped into the room. He turned his attention to the boy as he sat down next to him and quickly noted Atsushi's troubled expression. Before he could comment though, Atsushi beat him to it.

"You don't have any food in your apartment."

Ah. Of course. There wouldn't be any food in his apartment seeing as how he had never bought some for himself. When Dazai was part of the mafia, Mori always had someone else buy food and restocked his fridges for him—probably as a subtle reminder to eat more, which he ignored—and so he never had a need to do it himself. Not that he ate much of the food provided for him in the first place, but it was there if he ever bothered to look. Now, he simply didn't know _what_ to buy. He didn't know what went into fridges or pantries or cupboards and if he wasn't going to eat it, why should he buy it? He could just go out to eat when he remembered he needed to so why would he need food in his apartment?

Dazai smiled as he once again pushed himself into a sitting position, feeling slightly better now that he had rested.

"I must have forgotten to go shopping. It's fine, Atsushi, I'll just eat later," he said flippantly, trying to ward off his concern.

Atsushi didn't look like he believed Dazai for a minute and even Kyouka was giving him a skeptical look.

"We have food in our apartment, Atsushi. We can make food with that," Kyouka offered helpfully as she kept an eye on Dazai to make sure he didn't fall like he did last time.

Atsushi's eyes lit up slightly at the suggestion, and he gave a small smile, "You're right, I'll bring something here and we can make it together."

After that declaration, Atsushi swiftly left the room, leaving Dazai and Kyouka alone. They sat quietly for a moment before Dazai decided to break the silence, "Really, Kyouka, I'm fine, you don't need to stay here."

"Yes, we do," Kyouka bluntly stated as she stared at him with her penetrating blue eyes, "We care about you so of course, we're going to stay here until you feel better."

Dazai barely held back a flinch as she said "care". Every time he heard the word, he couldn't help but think back on Father and how he "cared" about Dazai. He knew Kyouka and Atsushi would never hurt him—wouldn't ever _want_ to hurt him—but the dark flash of... _something_ flared up within him anyway. It wasn't a comfortable sensation and he didn't like the way it crept up on him, coiling tightly around his heart and _strangling_ all breath from his chest.

He hadn't realized he spaced out again until Kyouka's small hand wrapped around his own, squeezing it in a comforting manner. He noticed then his hands trembled beneath Kyouka's steady ones. When had that started? He lifted his free hand higher in order to see it better and not understanding as it continued to shake. He clenched his fist in an attempt to get it to stop, but it just wouldn't. Soon, that hand too was encircled by Kyouka's gentle touch, drawing his attention back to her searching gaze.

"Dazai, you don't look well, maybe you should lay down."

"I'm fine," he whispered back, wide-eyed and confused as he tried to convince himself he was being truthful. Trying to pretend none of this affected him as much as it did.

"You're not," Kyouka responded adamantly as she let go of his hand to feel his forehead, noting the remaining fever, "You really should lay back down."

Dazai shook his head and Kyouka didn't push him any further on the issue, opting instead to wipe his brow with the towel from earlier. Atsushi chose that moment to re-enter the apartment with food in hand. He stuck his head into the room and looked at Dazai imploringly.

"I brought ingredients for omelets, I hope that's okay?" Atsushi questioned, waiting for an answer from the older male.

Dazai simply nodded his consent, not really caring what Atsushi made at the moment, and watched as Atsushi left the room to prepare the meal. Kyouka stood up as well, moving towards the door to help Atsushi. She paused by the door and turned to Dazai, saying, "Try to get some rest," leaving him to his thoughts.

* * *

Kyouka entered the kitchenette to see Atsushi gazing blankly at the countertop, deep in thought. She knew what was on his mind. It was the same thing that had been running through hers since they had found Dazai passed out on the floor the night before. And that was how both of them would do what they could to protect Dazai. Even if that meant protecting him from himself.

It was the least they could do for all he had done for them, bringing them both into the Agency when they had nowhere else to go.

At the moment, after what they had seen, Dazai's greatest danger seemed to be himself. Dostoyevsky was there in the background as the greater threat—he brought about the current situation after all—but they could deal with that later. Right now, they needed to focus on Dazai and see him taken care of.

"Atsushi?" Kyouka stepped closer to the boy and his gaze shifted to her. He didn't smile like he usually would and his face remained apprehensive.

"He doesn't have any food in his apartment. Nothing. And now that I think about it, I don't think I've ever actually seen him eat anything, have you?" Atsushi asked with a hint of desperation in his tone, hoping he had come to the wrong conclusion and was simply mistaken.

"No, I haven't. He's never eaten around me either," Kyouka's hands clasped tightly together with her confession and Atsushi deflated, placing both hands on the counter in front of it as he leaned heavily on it.

"Do... do you think this is because of what happened to him? In the photos?" His voice was soft, almost a murmur as though speaking any louder would bring the horrors of the photos to life.

"I-," Kyouka started, but the words got caught in her throat. Swallowing, she tried again, "it's very likely. There's no way for us to know what else has happened to him and... he did look very thin in those photos."

Atsushi clenched his eyes shut at her words, bowing his head as he tried to suppress his tears. He already knew what she would say, but it was still hard to hear. He allowed himself a moment to compose himself before slapping his cheeks in a steadying motion.

"Right," he said, taking a calming breath, "we should make the food now. I'm sure Dazai's hungry and we shouldn't keep him waiting any longer."

They made the omelets in complete silence, and they were soon ready. Kyouka brought out plates and utensils, setting them on the counter to allow Atsushi to put the omelets on the plates. They gathered up the food and made their way back to Dazai's room, finding him in the same position as when they had left. Atsushi knelt next to Dazai before handing him his food, "Here, Dazai."

Dazai blinked, not having noticed the two re-enter his room, before turning his attention onto Atsushi. Seeing the plate, he grinned at the boy as he reached for the food, "Thank you, Atsushi! This was very kind of you."

"It was nothing, really," Atsushi stated while attempting a smile of his own. He couldn't manage anything more than a small smile though as his discoveries still troubled him.

Dazai didn't seem to notice, however, and Atsushi attributed it to his remaining fever. Had Dazai been at full health, he would have instantly noticed the forced quality of the smile. As it was, he simply looked at the food now placed in his lap as though he couldn't quite figure out what to do with it.

"Do you need help eating it?"

Kyouka's question seemed to spur Dazai into action and he started cutting pieces of his omelet as he said, "No, no. I got it. I can manage just fine on my own."

Atsushi and Kyouka watched with baited breath as Dazai ate his food, making sure he ate all of it. He did with no trouble at all and they started to think maybe they were overreacting after all. Something deep down told them they weren't, but for now, they could pretend they thought otherwise.

Once all the food had been eaten, Atsushi opined, "Kyouka or I should go out and buy some groceries for your apartment, Dazai. You said you forgot to earlier and now would be a good time to do it while its fresh on our minds."

"That's a great idea. Is there anything in particular you want, Dazai? One of us can go shopping while the other stays here with you," Kyouka quickly backed up Atsushi's suggestion and they both leaned towards Dazai in expectation.

Dazai was soon to shut that idea down, however, and he waved his hand in a dismissive manner, "Usually I'm all for skipping work and everything, but isn't it about time for you two to head for work right about now?"

"We told you we weren't leaving you and we won't," Atsushi said stubbornly, puffing his cheeks out in annoyance as he glared accusingly at Dazai.

This elicited an amused laugh from Dazai, finding Atsushi's obvious annoyance endearing, "How about I simply go with you? That would solve that problem, don't you think?"

"But you're sick and-," Atsushi quickly protested the idea but was interrupted by Dazai soon after.

"And I wouldn't be doing anything different at work than I am here. Besides, I'm feeling better and Kunikida will be rather annoyed to have three members of the Agency absent today. I'm sure it isn't written down anywhere in his Ideal to have absentee coworkers today. Imagine all that paperwork poor Kunikida will have to take care of with all of us gone."

Atsushi silently disagreed. He thought that after last night, with the state Dazai had been in, Kunikida expected they wouldn't be in work today, but at the mention of paperwork, Atsushi felt a stab of guilt at the thought of leaving Kunikida to do it all.

"Fine, you can come," he reluctantly conceded the point, "If you start to feel sick again, at least Yosano will be there to treat you."

Dazai paled a little at the mention of Yosano. He couldn't stand the thought of doctors and their 'treatments', not after all those times he'd had to see Mori back in the mafia, but he nodded anyway to appease Atsushi. He still didn't feel the best, but he hated the idea of staying in his apartment, with only the two teens as company, where his thoughts could creep up on him. He would much rather go to work and risk the potential threat of Yosano's medical room—where he knew she wouldn't hurt him, but couldn't push away the thought anyway—than chance the horror his thoughts would bring.

"Let's go then!" Dazai said with fake cheer as he got up to get ready.

* * *

As the group walked to work, Dazai was up to his usual antics: making grandiose hand gestures, soliciting to commit double suicide with him, talking in an obnoxiously loud, and yet strangely charming way, and all around making a nuisance of himself. This caused Kyouka and Atsushi to relax, thinking perhaps Dazai had been truthful when he said he felt better. They didn't notice his thoughts were actually elsewhere the entire time or that his eyes looked distant.

Dazai really didn't understand the teen's worry for him. He could tell it was about more than just his bout of sickness this morning. No, he was certain it extended to the revelation they had of his life before. Both of them had lived hard lives; Kyouka with the death of her parents and consequent conscription into the Port Mafia, and Atsushi's unwarranted abuse at the hands of the director of his orphanage; so he couldn't understand the distinct horror they felt when they found out about his. His life had been no worse than their's, so why were they so concerned? It just didn't make sense and no matter how much he thought about it, his confusion did not lessen. He just continued to grow more and more baffled.

Before he knew it, they had arrived at the agency. Here came the hard part. The four-story building was the same as always, pleasant looking with a comforting atmosphere, but for some reason, Dazai got the strangest sense of foreboding as he looked at his workplace. If Kyouka and Atsushi were this anxious for him, he could only imagine how everyone else would react. He hoped they would all act normal around him and not blow anything out of proportion, but he knew that would be unlikely, especially with the way he stormed out the other day.

With a heavy feeling he couldn't explain pressing down on him, Dazai followed Atsushi and Kyouka up the stairs to the fourth floor where everyone would be waiting for him. And, as he feared, as soon as he entered the room all eyes were on him. He swiftly looked away from their faces and avoided the eyes of everyone. He didn't want to see what expression they wore. He didn't want to know what they thought or see the pity and worry in their eyes. He didn't know how to handle emotions like those. Anger and annoyance, those were emotions he knew and could deal with, he did it all the time, he intentionally caused them most of the time after all. But sadness, hurt, despair, any sort of emotional pain? They left him paralyzed. Completely at a loss for what to do, and when they were directed at him, _for_ him, he couldn't help wondering _why_? Why did they care? What had he done to warrant their consideration?

Nothing. Nothing at all.

Dazai hid all these warring thoughts with a beaming smile and tinkling laugh he knew didn't fool anyone anymore as he greeted people without really looking, only absently noting when Atsushi and Kyouka headed towards their own desks. That was probably why he didn't notice Kenji step out in front of him until he almost ran into the boy. Dazai stopped short, pulling back to better see the boy as he continued to stand in front of him. He looked down at Kenji and, seeing the earnest expression shining through his wheat-colored eyes, asked, "What is it, Kenji? Is there something you wanted me for?"

Rather than answering right away, Kenji rummaged through a basket on a nearby desk, pulling out a bright red tomato. He then held it out to Dazai, flashing a tender smile, "Here, Mr. Dazai, it's a tomato my parents sent me from back home. Tomatoes always help bring a smile to my face and make things seem better. Maybe it will help you be happy too."

Kenji waited for Dazai to take the tomato, smile still in place and an aura of optimism surrounding his entire being. Dazai hesitantly took the tomato, words caught in his throat as he tried to figure out what to say to repay Kenji's kindness. He looked down at the tomato almost reverently, unable to decipher what the warmth flowing through him was. It was just a tomato, and yet this tomato was the first gift he had ever received. It shouldn't affect him like it did, but he couldn't push down the weird sensation now that it filled him.

When he gazed back up, again attempting to express _something_ , the words froze on his tongue as he was pulled into a bone-crushing hug by Kenji. Immediately, Dazai's hands went up, almost as if he wanted to push Kenji away, but he stopped himself at the last minute. He didn't seem to know what to do with hands, though, leaving them to hang in the air awkwardly as Kenji clung to him. His heart started beating rapidly at the unfamiliar situation and he all but held his breath until Kenji let go of him.

When he finally did pull back, he shot Dazai a bright smile, "I hope you feel better, Mr. Dazai, and make sure to eat that tomato!"

Kenji scampered off to the other side of the office with his vegetable basket in hand, leaving Dazai stunned and confused.

'Feel better?' Dazai thought as he watched Kenji leave, 'How did he know I wasn't feeling well in the first place? Do I look that bad?'

He didn't think he looked sick when he got ready earlier, and while he still wasn't at 100%, he was much improved from this morning. Dazai walked to his desk in a bit of a daze and sat down on his chair, placing the tomato in front of him. He sat and stared at the tomato for several minutes, ignoring the worried looks and persistently hovering of his coworkers as he continued to look at the tomato without touching it. He didn't feel like eating it, but it had been a gift from Kenji and he would be disappointed if he didn't.

Before he could decide if he would eat it or not, his attention was drawn to movement at the corner of his eye. He looked to his left and saw Yosano headed quite deliberately in his direction. He mustered up all the false cheer he could and greeted her enthusiastically, "Yosano, hello! I'm very popular today it seems."

Yosano ignored Dazai's cheerful greeting, opting instead to look him over with a critical eye before asking, "Dazai, how are you feeling after last night?"

Dazai looked at her in confusion, before realizing that of course Atsushi and Kyouka called her when they found him unconscious. They had probably feared he had done something worse than just drown himself in alcohol.

"I'm fine now," Dazai said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head as he let out an apologetic laugh, "I'm sorry for all the extra work I gave you last night."

Yosano clicked her tongue at his response and put a hand to his forehead, checking his temperature for herself. Dazai barely held back the flinch when she touched him and he mentally berated himself. They weren't going to hurt him, so why did he keep shying away from them? Still, everyone kept touching him and if they continued to do so, he didn't think he would be able to contain his... discomfort.

Yosano stared intently into his eyes, noticing the how they widened at her touch and giving a better look into his sadly lackluster chocolate eyes. They were beautiful eyes. It was a shame to see them so hollow.

Finally, she removed her hand and straightened up, putting her hands on her hips as she looked down at Dazai, "Well, your fever seems to have gone down, but you should still take it easy. If you start to feel worse, come to me."

Dazai smiled with a quick wink and a little salute before saying, "Will do, Yosano!"

She knew it was a lie, but she chose not to comment on it. There would be plenty of time for that later.

Yosano walked back her spot next to Ranpo where he sat cross-legged on his desk. When she got there, she folded her arms and leaned against the desk on Ranpo's left where they both watched Dazai as he sat silently at his desk without even trying to bother Kunikida. Just from that, everyone in the room could tell he was more affected by yesterday's events than he was letting on. Throughout the day, Ranpo and Yosano continued to watch Dazai, trying to decide when to confront Dazai about the photos. They didn't want to push him too soon, but at the same time, they needed to know if they had any hope of helping him and figuring out what Dostoyevsky was up to.

They continued to watch Dazai until the end of the workday came upon them and Dazai had been staring at the tomato ceaselessly for hours. Yosano could only imagine Dazai's condition worsened for him to be so enraptured by the fruit. It was at this point Atsushi came upon them with a troubled look on his face, also watching Dazai.

Ranpo caught Atsushi's look immediately, "What's wrong, Atsushi?"

At the sound of his name, Atsushi looked finally turned his attention towards the doctor and detective, chewing his lip anxiously, "There's... something I learned when I was at Dazai's and it has me worried."

Immediately, Ranpo unfolded his legs, letting them drop to hang from his spot on the desk. Opening his eyes, he looked intently at Atsushi, green eyes flashing worriedly, "What? What did you find out?"

Yosano listened to the conversation but kept her eyes on Dazai as he fiddled with the still whole tomato. She had a feeling she knew what Atsushi was going to say.

"Dazai has no food in his house. None at all. His fridge is empty and so are all of his cupboards and cabinets. He says that he just forgot to go shopping but... I don't think they've ever had anything in them. I don't think Dazai eats very often," he paused as he looked back at Dazai, "the only time I've ever seen him eat is when Kyouka and I made him an omelet this morning."

That was worrying and exactly what Yosano feared Atsushi would say. She glanced over at Ranpo and they shared a look. They had to talk to Dazai, now. He was already doing damage to himself and had been for who knows how long right under their noses. It was time they learned as much as they could from Dazai before something worse happened they wouldn't be able to fix.

Together, Yosano and Ranpo made their way over to Dazai, stopping when they were right next to his chair. He did not look up at them, though they knew he was aware of their presence. They could see it in the tensing of his shoulders. When it became apparent Dazai would not acknowledge their presence without further prompting on their part, Ranpo spoke up.

"Dazai, we need to speak with you. About the photos"

Dazai finally looked up at the sound of Ranpo's voice and he had such a look of bone-weary exhaustion it left Ranpo feeling like he had been stabbed with a knife straight into his heart.

"Not today," Dazai asked in a way that was not quite a plea, pain and melancholy shining through his normally stoic eyes, "Can we not do this today?"

Ranpo and Yosano were left speechless by the uncharacteristic subdued behavior, and they could only nod in response, no longer willing to get answers out of Dazai when it seemed like one wrong question would break him. They would have to wait for him to be in a better state, physically and mentally.

"Sure, Dazai, we can do this later," Yosano murmured sadly as she watched attempt a smile before leaving the office with the uneaten tomato in hand, Kyouka and Atsushi following after him like little ducklings.

They wouldn't get answers today, but it became more and more apparent that they would need to get them soon. It was the only way they could get even an inkling of what Dazai went through on a daily basis just to force himself to continue living.

* * *

 **A/N:** School has been very stressful the last few weeks. I'm glad this semester is finally over! Hopefully, now that I don't have school work to worry about, I'll be able to write more. This chapter was hard to write so I hope it's not bad. I hope you enjoy and I'd love to hear your feedback!


	6. Ignorance Was Less Painful Than This

**A/N:** Thank you all my guest reviewers! I love hearing everyone's feedback and I appreciate it!

* * *

For the next few days, Yosano and Ranpo kept their distance from Dazai, anxiously waiting for the time they could talk to Dazai. In the meantime, the Agency had been scouring every record they could get their hands on, trying to figure out who the man in the photos was or what Dostoyevsky planned to do with the information he had. Even Fukuzawa tirelessly looked, calling contacts, pulling in favors, even talking to Taneda from the Special Abilities Department, but so far, nothing was turning up.

No one seemed to know anything and it looked to the Agency like someone had worked very hard to cover up any and all information about the man. Or was it information on Dazai that had been covered up? Either way, they weren't getting anywhere with their search. They were running out of options and the only place they could think to get the information they needed was from the Port Mafia or Dazai himself.

The Port Mafia didn't seem to be a very viable option, and while it was almost certain they had _something_ on Dazai—Dazai had been part of their ranks since he was fourteen so they had to know something about him, at least more than the Agency themselves—they wouldn't give that information easily. Mori would want to keep information on his favorite ex-executive as close to the chest as possible and it didn't seem likely he would be willing to share.

That left only Dazai himself. But that came with problems in and of itself. It was hard to tell how to approach him in a way that he would actually give them information and, as much as it pained them, with the mask he wore all the time they couldn't tell if he would be okay if they asked him these hard questions.

He definitely _appeared_ to be doing better than he had been a few days back. According to Atsushi and Kyouka, he _had_ been eating, if only because they made breakfast for him every day to make sure he ate it, but it was something at least. He had also gained back his exuberance, but there still seemed to be something... _forced_ about it. Of course, Yosano and Ranpo knew at this point that he faked all of his emotions, but in Dazai's behavior, there was a difference between forced and faked. What he was doing now seemed forced in a way that was unusual to what they had grown accustomed to coming from the suicidal man.

And then there was the fact he hadn't been trying to annoy Kunikida like he would normally do, and he _actually_ did his paperwork. It had surprised them all when he first started doing his paperwork without being forced, but not as much as how _quickly_ he finished it all. It had only taken him a few short hours before the huge stack on his desk was completed. It had surprised Kunikida so much, he froze for a whole five minutes, just staring at the finished paperwork. While all of this had been rather entertaining, this more than anything told Yosano Dazai was not as fine as he liked to pretend. These weren't things Dazai would do if he was in his normal state of mind and it worried Yosano.

Another person who had Yosano worried was Kunikida. Ever since their talk, Kunikida had been quieter, more contemplative. He watched Dazai like Yosano and Ranpo did and Yosano couldn't help but wonder what he was looking for. She hoped whatever it was, it wouldn't make things worse for the oftentimes too serious man.

* * *

Dazai did his paperwork dutifully like he'd been doing the last few days. It helped him pretend everyone wasn't watching him like he would suddenly keel over and die if they looked away; it helped him pretend they hadn't seen those photos and didn't know what he hid behind layers of bandages and silly masks. Still, there was only so much monotony he could take and paperwork was so _boring_. He remembered now why he never bothered to do it when he had been part of the mafia.

Dazai dropped his pen onto his desk, pushing away the remainder of the papers in front of him, and leaned lazily on his hand in a bored manner. His eyes roamed the room lethargically, inspecting the room for something that could adequately abate his burgeoning boredom. His searching soon led his focus onto Kunikida.

Kunikida, who busily worked on own paperwork, expression serious and pensive like it always was. Kunikida, who had such humorous reactions whenever Dazai did something mildly irritating or messed up his schedule. Kunikida, who looked completely stupefied when Dazai had given him his completed paperwork that first day. He hadn't bugged Kunikida in a while and now that he actually _wanted_ to for the first time in days, he couldn't let this opportunity pass him up.

Dazai ripped pieces of paper from a nearby notebook and wadded them up into tiny balls. Once he had a sufficient pile of the paper balls Dazai threw one, hitting Kunikida square in the forehead.

No reaction.

Dazai did it again and got the same non-reaction as before and so he did it again. And again. And again.

There was a twitch this time. A little, irritated movement of the eyebrow which Dazai found quite encouraging. Wanting to see how long it would take before Kunikida blow up entirely, Dazai continued to throw the wadded paper in the exact same place on Kunikida's forehead.

The twitching was continuous now and, impressed with Kunikida's perseverance in holding out this long, Dazai threw the wads a little harder. It only took four more hits from the paper balls before Dazai finally got the reaction he wanted.

Kunikida rose from his seat in an explosion of sound and Dazai soon found Kunikida's hands wrapped around the lapels of his coat. Dazai flinched at the rough contact but grinned broadly at Kunikida's tirade as he shook him angrily. Kunikida was so easy to rile up Dazai just couldn't help himself. It was worth any discomfort physical contact gave him.

"Dazai!" Kunikida started in a furious tenor growl, "How many times do I have to tell you not to bother me while I'm working?! How do you expect me to get any work done when you're sitting there throwing paper at my head?!

"But Kunikida, you looked so serious I thought you were going to fry your brains out! I was just trying to help!" Dazai stated in mock worry belied by his mischievous smirk, holding his hands up in faux surrender.

"Oh, I'm _sure_ ," Kunikida sibilated, his grip tightening menacingly on Dazai's coat and, somewhere in the back of his mind, he made note of the way Dazai tensed further at the action, "Just like how you thought I was going deaf and decided to _help_ by _screaming in my ear_!"

"It worked, didn't it? I successfully determined that your hearing is just fine!" Dazai exclaimed jovially as he gestured dramatically at Kunikida's head.

"Why, you little-"

Kunikida's face turned bright red as his anger skyrocketed. He rose his hand to cuff Dazai on the back of his head, as per usual whenever Dazai did something especially irritating but froze at the last minute. He couldn't shake the image of Dazai beaten, starved, and afraid from flashing through his mind, and he just couldn't bring himself to hit him as he'd done before. Not after everything he learned and knowing just how much Dazai already suffered. And definitely not now that he felt the tension in Dazai's frame he had somehow missed earlier.

Kunikida took his hand back, clenching it to ward off his dark thoughts before dropping it to his side, and removing his other hand from Dazai's coat. As he did this, Dazai gave him the most innocent look of confusion it sent daggers straight through Kunikida's heart. He was bewildered Kunikida hadn't hit him and Kunikida didn't know _what_ he thought about that, but it was all kinds of wrong.

Still looking up at Kunikida with his brown orbs widened slightly in puzzlement, Dazai asked, "Kunikida, what's wrong? You have a weird expression on your face."

Kunikida furrowed his brows before heading back to his desk and pulling out his chair.

"Nothing," Kunikida muttered after he was seated and pretended to be fully engrossed in his work once more.

Dazai continued to stare at Kunikida as he worked, watching his tense shoulders as he fought whatever emotions raged through his head at the moment.

"I'm sorry."

Dazai's voice had been little more than a whisper but with how silence permeated the room since Dazai and Kunikida started up their usual daily banter, it carried as loudly as a yell.

Kunikida snapped his attention back to Dazai at the softly spoken words, shock evident in his expression.

"What?" He started slowly as his mind worked to catch up with the situation, "Why are _you_ apologizing? What do you have to be sorry for? You did _nothing_ wrong."

A forlorn smile spread across Dazai's face at these words and he wouldn't meet Kunikida's gaze, "I've done plenty of things wrong. I was part of the Port Mafia for eight years, after all."

Dazai cautiously focused his attention on Kunikida, gaze heavy with too many emotions for Kunikida to accurately guess at them all, but sadness and guilt seemed prevalent, "But right now, you are all hurting because of me and I am so sorry that I hurt you. You shouldn't be in pain because of me. I'm not worth it and I am sorry."

"You're not- You don't have to-" Kunikida stumbled over his words before trailing off, unable to get them out through the shock.

Kunikida couldn't believe his ears, and even more didn't , want to believe he was hearing this. Every time he learned something new about Dazai, it became more and more apparent just how _damaged_ he was. Dazai didn't think he was worth the concern of his friends and thought that because they were hurting _for_ him he was the cause of their pain. It spoke volumes about how little concern Dazai had been shown in his rather tragic life.

At a loss at what to say to such an earth-shattering realization, Kunikida's eyes shifted around the room, a silent plea for help. Unfortunately, everyone seemed to be in much the same dilemma as Kunikida himself. When his eyes landed on Yosano, she stepped up to help in his place.

"Dazai, you shouldn't be sorry that people care about you," she said, placing her hand on his shoulder as she walked up to him, "and you are worth it."

"You _are_ ," she repeated when Dazai gave her a doubtful look, "Just because you were mistreated as a child, it doesn't mean you deserved it."

"I wasn't mistreated," Dazai protested, disregarding the last part of Yosano's sentence and subtly shrugging her hand off his shoulder when the contact became too much, "I was being _trained_. Everyone in the Port Mafia goes through extensive training when being initiated. You should know this already."

"Wait, the _mafia_ ," Ranpo jumped into the conversation at this new information, "I thought you weren't part of the mafia until you were fifteen. A year _after_ the torture stopped. Don't tell me you were brought into the mafia at _five_?!"

If so, Ranpo had gotten a lot of things wrong, more than he thought possible. This would call into question everything he thought about his detective skills. How could he have read Dazai _so wrong_?

At Ranpo's outburst, Dazai blinked in confusion, "I did only join the Port Mafia when I was fifteen, but that didn't stop Father from training me to be part of it beforehand."

"That was your _father_?!" Ranpo exclaimed almost before Dazai finished his sentence, "Why would he want you to join the Port Mafia and how could he _do_ that to you?! That isn't training! It's _torture_!"

Dazai just looked more confused as Ranpo continued to shout. Normally, it would have been an expression Ranpo would relish seeing on his face—proving once again he was the smarter of the two—but now, in this situation, it just hurt to look at.

"Because he was the previous boss of the mafia, Touson Shimazaki, and he wanted me to be the best," Dazai started slowly, trying to comprehend everyone's surprise, "You didn't recognize him? I understand Chuuya not knowing who he was, but I thought at least some of you might have known him. He was the boss for quite some time, after all."

The room was left in silence after Dazai's words. It was true that many of them had been in Yokohama before Mori became the boss of the Port Mafia, but unlike Mori, his predecessor kept mostly to the shadows. Not many people outside the mafia had seen his face and even Fukuzawa, who had many connections in high places, hadn't been privy to that particularly well-kept secret. There wasn't even any information on him and no one knew anything more than rumors heard in dark alleyways. This revelation on the man in the photos, who was not only Dazai's _father_ but also the previous leader of the Port Mafia, solidified every horribly vivid rumor Ranpo had ever heard about the man's insatiable cruelty.

That evil man had had a _child_ he could freely torture whenever he saw fit and the situation was so messed up Dazai couldn't even acknowledge that it _was_ torture. Instead, he had somehow been convinced by Shimazaki that it had been _training_. Ranpo knew how mafia members were trained and that was not it.

Dazai shifted uncomfortably as the long silence and gaping stares continued, bringing Ranpo out of his stunned musings.

"That is just so wrong on so many levels. No _wonder_ you're so screwed up in the head; you had a _psychopath_ for a _father_!" Ranpo said none-too-gently as he stared aghast at Dazai, "You... You need to get checked out by Yosano. Like, right now. I don't trust you to tell the truth about how you feel or what he did to you. You don't even think he did anything _wrong_ , do you? No. Don't answer that, it's obvious by the blank expression you're giving me. Yosano, please, knock some sense into him, will ya?"

Yosano nodded in determination despite her now washed out complexion. This was affecting her deeply, but she wouldn't allow her horror of it all interfere with what she knew she had to do. Dazai needed her care and she would give it to him in every way he would allow.

She walked up to Dazai, grabbing his arm in the gentlest way possible while still being firm, and began leading him to the infirmary.

"But I'm fine," Dazai attempted to pull his arm out of Yosano's hold, but she wouldn't let up her grip, "This happened years ago. There's nothing wrong with me. I'm _fine_ , really."

"Dazai," Kunikida started in the softest tone Dazai had ever heard coming from before, "just... go with her. Let her help. Even if you're only willing to talk, just let her _try_. We can see you are not fine, even if you can't. So _please_ , Dazai, go with her."

Dazai stared at Kunikida searchingly for a moment before giving him a stiff, reluctant nod before dropping his eyes and allowing Yosano to drag him off towards her office.

As they left, Ranpo abruptly stood up from his chair and headed for Fukuzawa's office, "I have to tell the President about this. He needs to know what we're dealing with."

What Ranpo didn't say as he walked away was that Fukuzawa would be able to provide him comfort as well. He wasn't attuned to dealing with situations like this and Fukuzawa had always been his pillar of strength whenever he felt this lost.

* * *

Yosano had noticed early on that Dazai faked his emotions. She knew he played them up, overdramatized them, all so people wouldn't realize just how false it all was. She wasn't blind. She knew these were all signs of serious trauma. Something had shattered Dazai's ability to feel genuine emotion and all the cheer and obnoxiousness was just used as a way to hide how broken he was. Yosano knew that Dazai knew he was broken. She saw it in the blankness that covered his face when he knew he should be feeling something but just couldn't figure out what expression he should make. His expression at those times could almost be described as grieved, and Yosano thought things like grief and despair were the closest Dazai had ever come to experiencing genuine emotion.

It broke her heart to think about it. Especially now that she was all too aware of what had been done to him to cause it.

She didn't want to think Dazai could only experience negative emotions, if even those only just slightly, but whenever he made a despondent face filled with hurt or pain, she felt those were more real than any other emotion he put on his face. To her trained eyes, his smiles, his laughter, and joy, all of these screamed false in a way Yosano would never have recognized had she not seen his eyes flash with despair that first time. It had been after his first failed suicide attempt a few months after he joined the Agency, and though he quickly covered up the look with his obnoxious antics, acting like it had all been a joke, she saw the despair clearly. And suddenly, it clicked that every emotion she thought he had before had been a show.

Now, every time he displayed a false emotion, Yosano saw right through it to the emptiness they tried to cover and she wanted to help him find his _real_ emotions, so he wouldn't feel quite so alone. She made it her goal to only ever show Dazai her genuine feelings and emotions and never lie to him, not even innocent white lies. When she was sad, she was openly sad. When she was angry, she didn't hold her punches. And when Dazai did something that made her happy, she made sure he knew it. Yosano hoped that if she did this, Dazai would begin to make the connections on his own and experience emotions of his own.

She didn't know how successful her attempts had been or if he even comprehended the feelings she expressed, but looking at Dazai now so lost and confused, trying to unravel _why_ they cared about him, she was more determined than ever to help him understand.

Yosano's musings came to an end as they reached the infirmary doors and she entered with Dazai close behind her.

As she continued farther into the room, walking up to one of the many counters and sifting through the drawers, she noticed Dazai lingering by the door as he eyed the room suspiciously. He obviously had no intention of moving from the spot unless commanded to.

Yosano turned to face Dazai and casually leaned on the counter as she wondered how to approach this situation. She studied him for a moment, watching as Dazai's posture remained cautious with no sign of it relaxing before deciding it would be best to just get on with it.

"Dazai, will you please remove your bandages so I can access the damage?" She requested in the most soothing voice she could manage.

It didn't help and Dazai immediately tensed up, hand unconsciously covering the bandages on his neck as though to protect himself from Yosano. "No."

Yosano stood up straight and held her hands out in a placating manner as she stepped closer to Dazai, "Dazai, I only want to help, but I can't do that if I don't know just how badly you have been hurt."

Dazai didn't give in though, staring at her blankly with his deep brown eyes, "No. Someone once told me I didn't have to do everything I was told if I didn't want to."

For a moment, Yosano wondered at the fact Dazai _had_ to be told something like that and at who had been the kind soul to inform him he didn't have to be an automaton. It was then Yosano noticed the fear lurking in the back of Dazai's eyes and the way they would flicker towards her medical tools anxiously before swiftly shifting back to her. A crushing sadness mixed with boiling rage washed over her as she realized he had probably been hurt by tools meant for saving.

It was just another thing to add to the long list of reasons why she wished his father was alive so she could torture _him_ until he died a painful, agonizingly horrible death. Then Yosano could see how _he_ liked the pain and suffering he put Dazai through.

Eventually, sadness won over her warring emotions and she pulled Dazai towards her, not missing his sharp flinch or rapidly increasing breaths as she did so. She buried his face into her neck, wrapping comforting arms around his lean frame, and began petting his hair. She murmured soothing words while caressing his hair and waited for him to relax his tense posture.

As she held him, she couldn't help but notice how bony he was, confirming Atsushi and Kyouka's worry that he hadn't been eating enough. Even through all his layers of clothes and bandages, she could see his thinness. It wasn't to the degree it had been in the photos—skin tight and thin around bird-like bones, emphasizing his emaciated and fragile form—and he had quite a bit of muscle on him, but he was still unnaturally thin. She had noted this before, of course, she had, but she told herself Dazai could take care of himself and that it wasn't her place to pry.

She thought he would come to her if he needed help.

Yosano didn't realize how wrong she had been and just how much his past had screwed him up. He didn't know how to ask for help or when he needed it. At this point, she suspected he didn't even know _how_ to take care of himself.

Yosano held Dazai for a full hour before he finally lost the tension in his muscles and actually started to relax into her embrace, but even then, she didn't release him. As he relaxed, tremors replaced the stiffness in Dazai's body because though he knew Yosano wouldn't hurt him, it didn't stop the fear from manifesting.

Yosano continued to embrace him, trying to stay his fear. She rubbed his back comfortingly, running her hand along his sides and back up to run her fingers through his unruly, silky brown hair, alternating between the two. As she did this, Dazai's breathing finally began to even out and his tremors went away before, suddenly, a surprised gasp escaped from his lips as Yosano accidentally increased the pressure when rubbing his back.

She stopped immediately and looked down at Dazai in worry, "Did that hurt?"

Dazai looked up at her through the curtain of his brunette hair. Strangely shy and looking ashamed, he softly spoke, "It... always hurts. Most of the time it's bearable, but.. adding pressure when I'm... _upset_... just worsens the pain."

 _Chronic pain_. Dazai suffered from chronic pain, likely caused by all of the many injuries accumulated on his body. It made sense when she really thought about it. There was really no way he could have gone through all that torture and _not_ have lasting physical problems. She didn't know why she hadn't thought of it sooner. It would explain his ridiculously high pain tolerance as well. The amount of pain that would incapacitate anyone else was Dazai's constant and when he got hurt, that simply distracted him form all his other pain. The only reason the pain bothered him now was due to his heightened emotional state.

"Can I... take a look at what's causing you pain?" Yosano asked in little more than a whisper, not wanting to upset him further.

Dazai closed his eyes wearily, "Not now... maybe sometime, but... I _can't_ yet."

Yosano's eyes softened in sympathy and she pulled him closer to herself, "Of course, Dazai, I understand. I won't push you anymore today. I just want you to know you can rely on me. For anything."

Dazai nodded before pulling away, Yosano reluctantly allowing him to go. He stood up on shaky legs, drained from an emotional strain he didn't understand and made his way to the door. Before he could leave through the door, Yosano stopped him, "Dazai, you're free to sleep in here if you want to. You look exhausted."

He stared at her, fatigue spelled clearly in his vacant face, "Yes... I think I'll do that. Thank you, Yosano."

Dazai made his way to one of the infirmary beds, pulled back the curtains and climbed into the covers. He curled up into the fetal position and wrapped his arms around himself protectively. He soon fell into a light doze, unable to sleep any deeper with people around. Yosano watched and mulled over all she had learned.

* * *

It's a few hours later when Dazai determined it was time to get up. He hadn't gotten much sleep—what with any sign of movement instantly snapping him awake and alert—but he did feel slightly better than before. He sat up and noticed the food placed on the table next to him which, after some consideration, Dazai decided to eat.

After he finished the food, he removed the covers and got out of the bed. Yosano was no longer in the room, having left some time earlier, so Dazai exited the infirmary and went to the main office space.

Upon entering the room, Dazai immediately noticed the absence of Ranpo and Yosano, a dark concerned aura permeating over everyone's head. Silence filled the room, only broken by the shifting of paperwork and the usual cheerful chatter Dazai had grown accustomed to had been squashed under the oppressive atmosphere. Dazai felt a sharp stab of pain in his chest as he concluded he was the cause. It seemed he couldn't be near anything without twisting it into something dark and damaged.

He had done the same thing to Odasaku, to Masao... to _Father_.

If it hadn't been for him, Father would have never gone mad. His love for Dazai had corrupted him, _destroyed_ him. And now he was doing the same thing to the Agency. Why did he always have to ruin _everything_?

The abrupt entrance of Fukuzawa, Ranpo, and Yosano disrupted the tense atmosphere, drawing everyone's attention to the President and making them aware of Dazai's presence in the room as well. Fukuzawa's gaze swept over the room slowly until his calm blue eyes landed on Dazai. With Dazai now fully in his sights, Fukuzawa steadily made his way towards him, gaze intent on the younger man.

Dazai wasn't sure what to do as the older man got continued to get closer and it was all he could do to not shy away when he finally stopped right in front of him. Fukuzawa seemed to study him for a minute, looking him up and down for... something before his penetrating gaze met Dazai's and stayed there.

Finally, the stern line of his mouth receded and he asked, "How are you doing, Dazai?"

Dazai's mind completely blanked out at the unexpected, and frankly uncharacteristic question, coming from the President. It wasn't usual for the President to go out of his way to talk to Dazai, let alone show concern for him.

"I... I'm fine, President," Dazai stuttered out, not sure what else to say.

Fukuzawa furrowed his brows, unfolding his arms as his eyes never left Dazai, "Are you sure? You look pale and your eyes seem a little unfocused. You don't have to hide it from me."

Those words sent Dazai's thoughts into overdrive. The President thought he was hiding things. Was he in trouble? He had never seen Fukuzawa angry before; what would his punishments be like? Had he done something to entail being punished? How would he stop himself from making the same mistake if he didn't know what he did wrong?

Dazai's words came out hesitantly and slowly as his mind rushed through possible mistake he may have made, growing paler by the second,"I didn't... I'm not...I... I'm not hiding anything."

At least he didn't think so. Not intentionally, anyway. Had Fukuzawa found out about something Dazai forgot he was hiding?

Fukuzawa's steely orbs softened in sadness and concern as he watched Dazai become more frantic with his attention. Fukuzawa raised his hand slowly and placed it on Dazai's head, fully aware as Dazai flinched violently at the contact, his alarmed brown eyes snapping back to Fukuzawa's own. Fukuzawa left his hand where it was, moving his fingers through silky locks and, making sure Dazai's attention remained on him, he said, "You are not in trouble, Dazai. I am not upset at you for anything. You did nothing wrong. I am simply worried about you."

When Fukuzawa's touch showed no signs of turning violent, instead, remaining kind and gentle, Dazai stared at him in shock. In his experience, people like Fukuzawa—people with a presence and disposition like him, full of power and authority—were not gentle. They were cold and distant, ready to deal out pain and punishment at a moments notice.

Of course, distantly, Dazai already knew Fukuzawa wasn't as aloof as he seemed, he had seen proof many times with his interactions with Ranpo and Kunikida, even with Kyouka. He knew this, but Dazai just never imagined that kindness in Fukuzawa would be shown to Dazai as well.

Dazai wasn't like the other people here. He wasn't good like they were and he certainly did not deserve kindness. He was a stain and deserved every harsh treatment they could think to give him. Dazai didn't understand why everyone insisted on treating him like he was... like he was _human_. He wasn't. He learned that a long time ago and his ability, No Longer Human, was also proof of it.

Fukuzawa's hand shifted from Dazai's hair to land on his shoulder, bringing Dazai's attention back to the present. The older man was still staring intently at Dazai and Dazai had to fight not to look away. After another minute, Fukuzawa squeezed Dazai's shoulder comfortingly before finally removing his hand and folding his arms in their usual position.

"Go home, Dazai. You have had a very trying last couple of days. There is no need to push yourself further than you are capable. It can't have been easy for you that we learned something of this nature without your consent and I am sorry that we did," Fukuzawa really did seem remorseful, blue eyes dark and sorrowful, but also filled with something else, "But now that we know, allow us to take some of the burden and help you figure what Dostoyevsky is planning. You don't have to do this alone."

At the mention of Dostoyevsky, Dazai realized he hadn't given the man any thought since he had left the mafia headquarters that first day. He found it odd that something that important could have slipped his mind until this moment. He knew how much of a threat Dostoyevsky was and yet, Dazai had forgotten all about it. What was _wrong_ with him? And when had the Agency learned that Dostoyevsky was responsible for the photos? He realized he didn't know. Dazai must be more exhausted than he realized. It might be a good idea to leave Dostoyevsky to the Agency for now, at least until he could actually think clearly.

Looking back up at the President, Dazai nodded in a slight daze and agreed, "Okay, President. I'll go home. I'm sorry for all the trouble."

Dazai didn't wait for a response as he turned around and left the office, intent on getting home and figuring out why it was so hard for him to think rationally lately.

* * *

 **A/N:** Here's the newest chapter! I hope that it's okay. Like always, thanks for reading and please review on your way out!


	7. When Kindness Breaks Before It Heals

**A/N:** Hey, guys. Sorry for taking so long for this next chapter. Apparently, instead of having more time to write during the summer, I ended up having less time. Turns out people want to hang out with you more when you have time. Anyway, enough of that, I hope you enjoy this next chapter and for those of you who have been waiting for more Chuuya, here you go!

* * *

Despite what he had told the President, Dazai did not go home immediately. Instead, he wandered the town, barely paying attention to the sights around him. The buzz of the town—the noise and color of it all—soothed him, reminding him he _could_ be out here and that he was no longer trapped within the dark confines of mafia construct. All of that changed though as the streets suddenly filled with large crowds of people, everyone in a rush to get home after a long week of work.

The feeling of calm quickly got replaced with unease as more and more people emerged from surrounding buildings. There were just so many _people_ and even though it had been years since he had lived in almost utter isolation and he had since been around many people, he still found it hard to be within large crowds such as these.

It was... _difficult_ for Dazai to walk through the streets on these busy days when avoiding physical contact was virtually impossible. People bumped into him constantly, accidentally touching and pushing him, causing the part of him that hated being touched to go into overdrive. He started to see danger everywhere, knives in the hands of shop clerks, children holding guns, mothers with burning pokers. Dazai knew none of these were actually true, that no one in this crowd of normal people had any intention of hurting him but he couldn't stop the creeping paranoia from filling his senses and suffocating him in its cold, relentless hands.

He had to get out of here.

Dazai began pushing through the crowd, making his way through the swarm of people as quickly and as calmly as he could. He didn't want to make a scene. Couldn't afford to make a scene, but the air was getting thin and if he didn't get away from these people soon, a scene would be the least of his problems.

Dazai didn't notice when reached the edges of the crowd. He didn't notice how the people around him grew less and less, thinning out drastically until he was the only one left. He didn't even notice where he was going or how long he had been walking until he found himself standing on a bridge, looking over the loud roaring and angry crashing of the Tsurumi River.

This was where he had first met Atsushi. This was where he had once again failed to fall into his long sought after, blissful, eternal rest. He had been _so close_ that day.

He remembered the burning in his lungs from rapidly inhaled water had died down, becoming something almost comforting rather than the agonizing stabbing pain it started as. His body became numb to the biting cold of freezing water and he no longer felt the aching of angry bruises from his body being relentlessly slammed into rock and stone. Then, darkness crawled from the corners of his vision, encroaching on the last light he would ever see before he finally, finally got what he wanted.

Next thing he knew, he was on the shore of the river, waking up from what he had hoped had been his death, rescued by an orphan who would have been better off worrying about himself. He had never been so disappointed in his life. He didn't blame Atsushi, though, he had inconvenienced the boy, after all. Any decent person would have done the same in his situation and even if Atsushi hadn't, something else would have, just like all his other attempts.

Dazai honestly thought it was unfair.

After so many attempts, so many times he had put himself in danger with unthinkable odds against him, he should have been dead. It's not like he made any real effort to protect himself. He never gave himself a way out in case he changed his mind after he tried and yet _every single time_ he survived.

Looking at the water now, Dazai thought about how _easy_ it would be to allow himself to be swallowed up by the dark depths of the abyss below. Maybe this time, it would work. Maybe this time, the empty dullness that was his existence would be extinguished once and for all.

Dazai pulled himself over the rail of the bridge and jumped.

* * *

Chuuya didn't know what he was doing here. He had been antsy all week, unable to stop thinking about what he had seen in that awful video and those nauseating photos. Because of that, his temper had been shorter than ever and he snapped at everyone who even _slightly_ irritated him. He just couldn't get it out of his head and no amount of fighting or wine or meditation did anything to alleviate the horror he felt every time those images flashed through his mind. Most of all, Chuuya agonized over _why Dazai never told him_.

They had been _partners,_ for crying out loud! Chuuya had seen Dazai at his worst. _He_ had taken care of him after every suicide attempt, no matter how bad they got, even when he had to force himself not to vomit or cry at the damage Dazai caused himself. _Chuuya_ was the one who stayed with Dazai after particularly hard missions, trying to calm his shaking when the pain of his injuries grew to be too much and Dazai refused to take the medication that would ease it. _He_ cleaned up after Dazai when he drank himself into oblivion on bad days, making sure he was okay. _He_ dragged Dazai out of bed on the days he couldn't force himself to get up and face the world. And, finally, _Chuuya_ had been the one who watched Dazai's back every step of the way.

So _why_? Why wouldn't Dazai trust him with this when he trusted him with _everything_ else? It explained _so many_ of Dazai's dysfunctional behaviors and Dazai never thought to tell Chuuya so he would _understand_ , even if only a little. Suddenly, Chuuya had the thought that maybe Dazai didn't know he _could_ tell him, and that made him _furious_.

Chuuya had no idea what sort of conditioning Dazai had gone through but it wouldn't surprise him if the inability to rely on anyone was part of it. Especially when Chuuya thought back on Masao Horiki and what he did to Dazai. Thinking about it wasn't getting Chuuya anywhere and there was only one place he could get the answers.

And now, when Chuuya couldn't concentrate on Mafia business any longer without completely decimating something or someone, Chuuya suddenly found himself here. In Agency territory. By himself. Hoping to catch sight of Dazai.

Why did he _do_ this to himself? He knew Dazai wouldn't give him any straight answers, not before hours of grueling needling and occasional threats of pain and suffering if Dazai didn't give in. It was frankly more effort than Chuuya thought he had the patience for. But, if he was completely truthful with himself, Chuuya was worried about Dazai.

Worried enough he would suffer through Dazai's evasions if he could just get something _honest_ out of his ex-partner.

Chuuya's internal conflict comes to an abrupt end as Dazai came walking down the street. He couldn't help but notice Dazai did not look well. His expression was blank—that in itself sending off warning bells—and he looked like he would drop any second from exhaustion. Worse than that, Dazai didn't even seem to notice that Chuuya was in the vicinity, something he normally would have spotted as soon as he left the Agency building, if not before. Now, he seemed to be too distracted to notice anything.

Furrowing his brow in concern, Chuuya made to catch up to Dazai but before he could the streets started to rapidly fill up with rushing crowds. Chuuya swore and resigned himself to following Dazai from a distance until the crowds cleared up. As he did, Chuuya saw something odd in Dazai's behavior. While he tried to navigate through all the people, Dazai would shy away from them, flinching every time someone's shoulder made contact with his own. Pretty soon, Dazai seemed to stop walking altogether and Chuuya—well attuned to all the subtle indicators of Dazai's mood from even the slightest change in his posture—recognized his distress immediately.

Confused by what he witnessed as he watched Dazai's still form, Chuuya thought back to when they were partners, wondering if Dazai had always been this way in crowds. He wracked through his brain, thinking about all the times they had been in public places together only to come up with nothing. With a sinking feeling, Chuuya realized he had _never_ seen Dazai in crowded areas and therefore had no idea how Dazai normally acted in them. Every time they were out in public, while there were people, they had never been in large crowds. It wasn't something they needed to do as part of the Port Mafia and though Chuuya knew he went to the city on his own sometimes when it was busy, he had no idea if Dazai ever did.

Dazai had this problem all this time and Chuuya never knew. It was yet another thing Dazai had neglected to tell him.

Chuuya watched as Dazai sprang into action again, slipping his way through the crowd. If Chuuya hadn't known Dazai as well as he did, he would have assumed he had simply stopped to orient himself before continuing on his way, but he could see past the ruse of calm and saw Dazai's growing panic.

Dazai was moving farther and farther within the crowd and before Chuuya knew it, he lost sight of his ex-partner. Cursing loudly, Chuuya pushed his way through the people in the direction he thought he saw Dazai go. People kept blocking him, some even muttering at him angrily when he shoved too hard to get through. It took him way too long to get through the sea of people and by the time he made it to the edges, Chuuya saw no sign of Dazai anywhere.

"Where would Dazai go?" Chuuya muttered to himself as he swept his eyes along the buildings and street signs, trying to find any clue Dazai had taken one of those paths to escape from the crowd. Chuuya's frustration grew as there continued to be nothing indicating Dazai presence. After several minutes of looking, he decided to just pick a direction and hope it was the right one.

"Damn Dazai, why do you have to be so hard to find," Chuuya grumbled as he turned to head towards the Tsurumi River. If Dazai wasn't there, Chuuya would be wasting a lot of time trying to find him the rest of the day. Because there was _no way_ Chuuya would leave without finding Dazai first.

He continued his way to the river, looking in every direction in his search for Dazai before he began nearing one of the bridges bypassing Tsurumi River. As he got closer, he noticed a figure standing on the bridge, staring out into the flowing water. Chuuya quickly identified the figure as Dazai.

Signing in relief, glad he had chosen the right path, Chuuya increased his stride and rose his hand in greeting, ready to call out to Dazai when he got close enough to be heard. Before he could get any words out, however, Dazai climbed over the railing and paused only long enough to push himself into the river.

Time seemed to slow down as Chuuya watched Dazai fling himself into the river, falling in what was unmistakably another attempt at his own life. Chuuya's breath caught inside of his throat as he witnessed yet another one of Dazai's self-destructive moments. He didn't even notice he activated his gravity ability, lessening his weight and increasing his speed as he rushed towards the younger man, trying to reach him before he crashed into the roiling water below.

* * *

As he started to fall, Dazai's eyes closed, letting the peace of the moment fill him. There was no one around to save him now. No one to stop this, no one to prevent him from getting what he's desired for as long as he can remember. Finally, everything would be over...

Something gripped his wrist tightly, bringing an abrupt halt to his descent and pulling at his shoulder socket painfully. For a moment, Dazai didn't understand what had happened. He should be falling, _should_ be getting swept up in the cold, unforgiving currents of the river, completely submerged in its darkness. Instead, he was dangling awkwardly from... _something_. Opening his eyes, Dazai slowly looked up, meeting the uncomfortably intense cerulean orbs of Chuuya Nakahara. He held onto Dazai's wrist in such a bruising grip, Dazai wondered if Chuuya's fingers would bare the mark as well.

"Chuuya..." Dazai trailed off as soon as the other man's name passed his lips.

This situation was so familiar, so common back when Dazai had still been part of the mafia, he wasn't sure how he should react. Even after all these years, Chuuya still somehow managed to find a way to thwart Dazai.

Dazai didn't have much time to ponder before Chuuya, with very little effort on his part, pulled Dazai over the railing and dropped him unceremoniously back onto the bridge. Dazai landed hard, jarring his now sore shoulder. He had all of three seconds of silence before Chuuya started yelling as he towered over Dazai.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing, huh, Dazai?!" Chuuya's expression contorted into one of pure outrage, but looking close enough, passed all the fury and red-hot anger, Dazai could see the underlining worry and fear behind those blazing blue eyes.

"Why do you always ask questions you already know the answers to, Chuuya? It was pretty obvious what I was doing. I don't remember you being this stupid, hat rack," Dazai replied blithely, hoping to derail Chuuya's thought process by insulting him. It usually worked, Chuuya having such a short temper and all, and he really didn't want to discuss his latest suicide attempt with the shorter man.

Chuuya narrowed his eyes, clenching his teeth so hard it hurt his jaw, and nostrils flaring as he pushed down the instinctual impulse to retort back in anger and violence, as he was so apt at doing when it came to Dazai, "I know what you're doing. I'm not going to fall for it."

"And what am I doing, Chuuya?" Dazai tilted his head, looking up at Chuuya with feigned confusion and innocence even though he knew Chuuya would never buy it.

"You're trying to make me angry so I'll drop the fact that you tried to kill yourself again, well it's not going to work. Not this time, Dazai."

Dazai could see the sincerity in Chuuya's eyes and he _hated_ it. What business was it of Chuuya's if Dazai decided to hurt himself? Didn't Chuuya say all the time about how he hoped Dazai would die or that he'd kill him himself? Why should it matter if he died by his own hand?

Everyone would be better off that way. He wouldn't be able to corrupt any more people if he were gone. There was no meaning to his life, no reason he should remain here. Everything was just empty...

"And why is this time any different Chuuya?" Dazai said, dropping all pretenses and letting his face fall empty, reflecting what was inside, "Nothing's changed since the last time we were in this position."

" _Everything has_ _changed_ , Dazai! After what I know now, how can I-" Chuuya didn't get to finish his sentence before Dazai interrupted him, leaving no room for Chuuya's words to be heard over his own.

" _Nothing_ has changed, Chuuya. The only thing that's different is now you _know_ about my father, but for me, everything is exactly the same as it was before."

There was no intonation to the words, no emotion, no anger, and that just made it worse. Dazai's words mirrored his expression, both lacking life or light. Chuuya was left speechless to see it when normally Dazai looked so _alive_ when talking to him. Even if it was mostly fake or forced, Dazai always seemed to get some joy out of bothering Chuuya. Now, all signs of that spark of joy were gone and Chuuya was left with the entirety of the damage Dazai's father caused him.

Before Chuuya could think of something in response to Dazai's statement, the younger man pulled himself off the ground and walked off, not looking back once as he made to leave Chuuya behind. Chuuya wouldn't be dismissed so easily, though, and caught up to the brunette until they were walking side by side. He watched Dazai the entire time, trying to read his expression, guess at his thoughts, but getting nothing from his blank face. Instead, Chuuya deigned to keep his silence and just kept watching him until Dazai acknowledged his presence.

Silence was unusual between the two young men. When they were together, they were loud, rambunctious, and often times violent. There was never a moment when they weren't antagonizing one another, trying to get a rise out of the other for their own satisfaction. If there was silence, it typically meant one of them was injured—usually Dazai—and something had gone horribly wrong. Now, Chuuya was contemplative, searching for answers he knew he wouldn't get easily and Dazai, for once, made no attempt to annoy Chuuya, instead, trying to ignore his very existence in the hopes he would give up and go away. Chuuya had no intention to do so, however, and he could be patient when he put his mind to it.

Dazai didn't acknowledge Chuuya at all for a very long time as they walked but as they neared the Agency apartment buildings, Dazai couldn't afford to ignore him anymore, not if he wanted him to leave him alone. Dazai grudgingly turned to look at the redhead, irritation showing by the darkening of his eyes and finally opted to speak to him.

"It'll cause trouble for both of us if anyone in the Agency sees you following me, Chuuya. The Mafia will suspect you of colluding with a traitor and have you executed. You would hate that, wouldn't you, Chuuya? Not to mention what the Agency would think, seeing how you have resorted to stalking me," Dazai said, making an effort to put on his usual smirk, but falling short of it.

Chuuya seemed unperturbed, responding in a deadpan, "That's not going to happen. Boss, seemed concerned about you, so I doubt he'll mind. And I don't care what crap the Agency has to say about it. We used to be partners. I know you better than any of them and I have just as much right as they do to be worried about you."

Dazai didn't seem to know what to say to that. His brows furrowed in disbelief and confusion as he stopped altogether to stare at Chuuya. He couldn't imagine Mori being genuinely concerned for him, not in the way Chuuya seemed to be implying, at least. He didn't think he mattered that much to Mori or anyone else for that matter.

Dazai wasn't someone people cared about. He wasn't someone important or needed. The only person who did care about him was Father and Dazai didn't want to be in that sort of situation ever again. He didn't think he could keep his sanity if he went through it a second time.

And then there was Chuuya.

Chuuya always talked about how much he hated Dazai and how his life would be easier if he had never met him. He made his disgust of Dazai pretty clear whenever they saw each other and now he was saying he was _worried_ about Dazai? Why would Chuuya worry about _him_? It just didn't make any sense to Dazai.

Dazai opened his mouth only to close it again and blinked slowly as he tried to comprehend what was going on. When it became clear Dazai wasn't going to say anything any time soon, Chuuya rose an elegant eyebrow as he gazed back at the taller man with a challenge in his eyes, "Well? Do you have something to say or not? You're usually so chatty, don't tell me you lost your words now?"

Dazai ignored the jab, staring for a few more seconds, before abruptly starting to walk again, looking deep in thought.

Looking down briefly, Chuuya sighed long-sufferingly before stuffing his hands in his pockets and following after Dazai, not bothering to catch up to him this time. Dazai seemed to be back to ignoring him and this was something that should be discussed behind closed doors. He could let Dazai avoid it until then.

It wasn't long before they made it to the apartment and as Chuuya followed Dazai up the stairs he noticed the rusty metal barrels and old broken down car in the yard out front. His eyes narrowed in distaste and clicking his tongue, he turned back to Dazai as he worked his key into his lock, "Why do you live in a place like this, Dazai? You can afford a lot better. I know you still have all the money you got from the mafia. You never spent _any_ of it."

Dazai paused opening the door for a moment before saying, "I was given this apartment by the President and it's near everyone. I don't need anything else." Dazai pushed his door open before trying to close it behind him, only for Chuuya to stick his foot in the door to prevent it from closing.

"Let me in, Dazai," Chuuya growled, glaring at Dazai with his sapphire eyes.

Dazai stared back at him with his dull chocolate orbs before quietly saying, "Just go home, Chuuya. Why are you still here?"

Chuuya's eyes narrowed and he forcibly pushed the door open wider, "You _know_ why. Don't make me break down your door. What will your agency say about that, huh? Now let. Me. In."

Dazai held the door for a moment, determining how serious Chuuya was in his threat to break his door before releasing his hold on it and letting Chuuya in. Chuuya pushed through as soon as there was leeway and started scanning the room as soon as he entered his ex-partners apartment. He made note of the bare walls, the empty rooms, and the lack of furniture before his eyes landed on the now faded brown stains in the carpets, signifying times Dazai had hurt himself in the past.

Mori's words flashed through Chuuya's head at the sight of the ruined floors, confirming the boss's theory on Dazai hurting himself, and for once Chuuya hated that Mori had been right. He tried not to think about how many times Dazai had hurt himself since leaving the mafia—or even while _in_ the mafia—and instead drew his attention back to the subject of his dark thoughts.

"Your place is the same as always," Chuuya observed aloud as he noticed Dazai in his kitchen area, not bothering to wait for Chuuya to finish examining his room, "it's as barren as its ever been in the mafia. Don't you have _any_ stuff?"

"What for?" Dazai questioned blandly, opening his fridge and clicking his tongue as he revealed that that, too, was empty. Muttering to himself, he closed the fridge door with a sigh, "Must have taken all the alcohol when they were here last."

Chuuya raise a brow at that, watching as Dazai stood and turned to face him after finding no alcohol to distract him from the impending conversation. Leaning against the counter in what anyone else would consider a casual gesture, Dazai met his hollow eyes with Chuuya's bright ones, "What do you want, Chuuya?"

Chuuya took a deep breath and with the calmest tone he could muster, asked, "Why didn't you ever _tell me_ , Dazai? Don't you think this is something I should have _known_? I could have helped or-"

"Or what, Chuuya? How could you have helped? What could you have possibly done?" Dazai cut Chuuya off coldly, not wanting to hear any more. Not understanding the concern.

"I don't know!" Chuuya yelled back, angry at being interrupted again and frustrated because he _didn't_ know, " _Something!_ I could have done something if you had just _told_ me! I could've looked out for you or been there for you more! I _could_ have helped somehow, so _why_ didn't you _tell me_?!"

Chuuya's breath came out in short, angry huffs as he finished his tirade, waiting for Dazai's response as he painfully furled his fists to stop himself from shaking some sense into the infuriating man. Dazai just looked at him blankly for a moment, expression giving nothing away as he intoned, "I didn't tell you because it wasn't important and it held no relevance. What would be the point, Chuuya? It doesn't change anything about what I am or what I've done. And it certainly wasn't any of your business."

Chuuya felt like he had just been slapped in the face at those words. 'It wasn't _important_ ,' Chuuya's thoughts replayed Dazai's words as shock fled and cold anger took its place, 'It held no _relevance._ It wasn't any of _my_ _business_.'

Chuuya gritted his teeth harshly, clenching and unclenching his hands in an attempt to hold back his urge to choke the life out of Dazai. He wasn't even sure who he was more angry at. Dazai, for saying something so ridiculous, so utterly _preposterous_ , Chuuya longed to kill him for saying it; or the man who had deeply ingrained such thoughts into Dazai in the first place.

His rage threatened to overcome him, but Chuuya harshly squashed it down. Rage wouldn't get him anywhere with Dazai. It would only serve to make him more defensive and so, trying to force an even tone to his voice, he repeated, "None of my business? You have been hurt so severely you try to _kill yourself_ every chance you get and you think this is _none of my business_?"

Chuuya's voice shook slightly while he spoke, with what emotion, he wasn't completely sure, and he started making his way closer to Dazai. Chuuya softened his tone again when he noticed Dazai tense the closer he got and with real calm this time, he continued, "You're like a _brother_ to me, Dazai. A very messed up, insane, suicidal brother with more issues than I can count, but you were always there for me, in your own screwed up way. And honestly?"

Chuuya stood right in front of Dazai now, cornering him against the counter, leaving him no way to escape. Dazai looked at Chuuya, chestnut eyes wide and painfully confused, and Chuuya stared steadily back, making sure Dazai saw the sincerity in his words through his own azure eyes, "You're the closest thing I have to a family, besides Kouyou. So don't you _dare_ tell me this is none of my business because it sure as _hell_ is. So let me be there for you for a change."

They both stood there for a moment, Chuuya no more than a foot away from Dazai as the taller man gawked at him, finding it difficult to piece words together like he normally would. What eventually came out of his mouth was not what Chuuya expected.

"Why are you doing this to me?" The words sounded so heartbroken, Chuuya wondered if Dazai even knew what Chuuya had just said to him.

Blinking confoundedly, Chuuya inquired uncertainly, "Why am I doing what?"

Dazai continued on as though he hadn't heard Chuuya, talking almost to himself as his eyes remained transfixed on Chuuya and he backed farther against the counter. Chuuya didn't know if he did it out of fear, or it was something else entirely.

"Everyone is being so gentle with me, so... _considerate._ Atsushi and Kyouka make me breakfast every day because they're afraid I'll starve if they don't. Kunikida won't hit me anymore like he used to. Yosano actually _hugged_ me and even the _President_ is paying more attention to me than he ever has before," he said the words like it was a foreign concept to him like it was unnatural for people to care about his wellbeing.

"And now here _you_ are, suddenly acting concerned about me, like I _mean_ something to you. I don't understand _why,"_ pure agony shown through Dazai's words and as he spoke he shook his head in denial,"This is not how people are supposed to treat me. It's... it's confusing and strange and... and _wrong. I hate it._ Being gentle or, or _kind_ to me is wrong and I want you to stop. I don't deserve it, so just _stop_."

"How can you say that?" Chuuya asked in utter disbelief, "Do you think you _deserved_ what your father did to you? Is that how you think you're _supposed_ to be treated? How _he_ treated you was wrong and you _didn't_ deserve it. I don't care what you think, but you didn't deserve _any_ of it and I would kill him right now for the all horrible things he did to you if he weren't already six feet under. _No one_ deserves to be treated that way, not even you."

Chuuya made sure Dazai was looking at him before he said his next words, "And I already told you why I care, Dazai. You're my brother and no matter how furious you make me, I'll always be there for you. You just have to let me."

When he finished speaking, Chuuya pulled Dazai into a tight embrace. As he did so, Chuuya heard Dazai's breath hitch and felt him stiffen up, but that only made him hold on tighter. Chuuya could imagine this was hard for Dazai. He was almost positive the only people to have held him like this for any extended amount of time was that bastard Masao and the homicidal manic Dazai had as a father. Dazai didn't associate hugs as something comforting or safe. He associated hugs with pain and deception and lies; something to fear because there was no real safety to be had in the gesture. Unlike Chuuya, Dazai didn't have someone like Kouyou to be there for him. He never got that gentle touch without it being used as a way to further hurt him.

Chuuya felt it was about time Dazai learned that touch didn't necessarily mean pain.

And so he held on, refusing to let go even as Dazai snapped out of his shock and started trying to push him away. Chuuya kept his arms wrapped firmly around Dazai's shoulders, holding him close despite the resistance Dazai put up.

As Dazai increased his efforts and began to panic, Chuuya's expression darkened in sorrow, "Let go. Let go of me, Chuuya. Let _go. Please,_ let me _go_."

It was a painful echo of the words he used when begging Masao Horiki to do the same. More than anything else Dazai could ever do, Chuuya _hated_ hearing Dazai _beg._

Dazai's knees soon gave out, Chuuya's arms being the only thing holding him upright as his breathing became haphazard, coming out in choking gasps as though Dazai couldn't get enough air in. Chuuya swiftly lowered both of them to their knees, trying to make him more comfortable while adjusting Dazai's head to lean on his shoulder. He could feel Dazai's hot breath beating harshly against the base of his neck and his hands clutching the sides of Chuuya's shirt in a weak attempt to push him away.

Chuuya's throat tightened and he swallowed thickly, running his fingers through dusky brown locks as he shakily attempted to sooth Dazai's panic, "I'm not going to hurt you, Dazai. No one's going to hurt you. No one will hurt you, Dazai, I won't let them."

Chuuya repeated these words over and over, trying to drown out Dazai's own frantic mantra of 'let go', but he didn't seem able to hear him. While his struggles decreased as time went on, his hyperventilating remained the same. Chuuya couldn't get through to him with his words so he just held him in his embrace, waiting for Dazai to calm down on his own. Eventually, it all became too much for Dazai and he passed out, both from exhaustion and the lack of adequate air.

Chuuya simply sat there for a minute with Dazai limp in his arms. Swallowing down tears, he looked down at his old partner, wondering what he was going to do, wondering what he _could_ do. For now, Chuuya gathered Dazai into his arms, carefully lifting him as he brought them both off the kitchen floor. He carried Dazai to his room, laying him down on his futon before settling down against one of the walls. He drew a knee up to his chest, wrapping an arm around it and placing his chin on his knee.

Chuuya sat there, watching over Dazai with keen sapphire orbs for the rest of the night.

* * *

 **A/N:** As always, please tell me what you thought in the reviews. I hope this chapter was worth the wait!


	8. Nightmares in the Dark

**A/N:** Sorry, guys, I have been really busy as of late. I also just started school again so my updates will not be as often as they were in the past, but I will still be working on it! I hope you enjoy this chapter! Oh, and thanks to all my guest reviewers!

* * *

 _Dazai sat there on his queen-sized bed, staring blankly at the off-white wall across from him. He had been doing the same thing for the past few hours, never once moving from his position, trying to avoid the pain it would inevitably bring. It was all he ever did now when left alone after the betrayal of Masao._

 _But mostly, it was all he_ could _do through the constant agony Father put him through regularly. And no matter how much he tried, he couldn't focus on_ anything _besides the burning of his skin and broken leg, the gnawing of his stomach, and the ache left in his heart by Masao. He may as well have been a doll, only moving when directed to by Father._

 _Father would be coming to see him soon. It had only been a few days since his last visit—one surprisingly not involving pain—but Father never liked being away from Dazai for too long. Dazai wasn't sure if this visit would be a social one, like the last one—without pain or suffering of any kind when Father wanted to try and bond with him—or a training visit, which either consisted of strategy training or a more 'hands-on' training with Father and his tools._

 _He never knew which one it would be but more often than not, it was the hands-on training. He hoped it wasn't but hoping never really got him anywhere so every time it popped up, he tried to squash it down._

 _Soon, after only an hour more of sitting motionlessly, Dazai heard footsteps outside his door that could only be Father. He stood quickly on his one working leg, leaning heavily on his crutch and waited in muted fear as Father unlatched the many locks on his room door before taking a step inside._

_"It's time for your training, Osamu," Father said and Dazai's heart dropped further as Father walked purposefully into his room, coming to stand right in front of the small five-year-old boy, "Are you ready?"_

 _Receiving no answer, Father knelt down in front of Dazai's frozen form, stroking his thumb across Dazai's cheek rhythmically as he stared back with achingly wide, terrified eyes, "I only want to help you. You understand that, don't you, my precious child?" Father asked before wrapping his confining arms around Dazai's thin, fragile shoulders, not waiting for any confirmation._

_Dazai immediately flinched at the unwanted and painful touch, heart pounding and dread filling his entire being as he waited for what always came next. Father never held him like this unless he had just hurt him or was planning on hurting him very soon. Even if Father hadn't already told him he was here for Dazai's training, Dazai would have known just from his bone-chilling embrace. Dazai feared what Father had in store for him now as he loosened his hold on him and Dazai caught the dark glint in his crazed eyes. Father pulled away, smiling at him in what on anyone else would have been a comforting manner._

 _Dazai wasn't sure how much he could take today, not while he still hadn't had a chance to heal after the last training session. His skin was still blistered and raw from the pokers, sticking painfully to his clothing and bandages despite the salve, and his leg had yet to heal from being shattered by the mallet. Even the slightest movement shot screaming agony through his veins, running straight to his bones. He watched in trepidation as Father let go of his shoulders only to grab his hand, dragging him as Dazai limped behind to the lower levels of the Port Mafia._

 _Once there, Father lead him into a room he had never been in before. It was a small, closed off room with no windows, cobblestone floors and walls, and the only light coming from the door they entered through. In the center of the small room was an even smaller cage, barely big enough to fit a child Dazai's size. Looking at the cage, Dazai instantly knew it was meant for him._

 _Father's hand tightened around Dazai's when he had paused to examine the room and he pulled Dazai until he stood right in front of the cage. Father let go of Dazai and knelt down to unlock the metal cage. Then he turned back to Dazai, wretched smile still on his aging face._

 _"This will be your training for now," Father stated as he started undoing Dazai's shirt and bandages, dropping them onto the floor as he went._

 _Dazai winced at the sharp pulling on his damaged flesh as it clung to the fabric but didn't struggle while Father continued to unwrap his bandages. He knew better than that by now. He couldn't help the shiver as the cold air made contact with his mutilated skin and he felt extremely vulnerable as the bandages slowly came off, exposing all his wounds._

 _Once Father had gotten the last of the bandages off, he just stared at Dazai for a moment, admiring his handiwork with an adoring smile. Looking up from red, blistering wounds and protruding ribs into Dazai's glistening chocolate orbs, Father cooed, "Are you ready, my dear child?"_

 _Father put his arm around Dazai's raw shoulders and directed him to the opening of the cage, taking his crutch in the process. Dazai looked at the small enclosure, wondering if even he could fit in within it._

 _"Go on, Osamu, get in," Father cajoled as if he was a stubborn child who wouldn't take his medicine._

 _Dazai had no idea what Father would do to him once he got in that cage. He didn't want to go in there but he feared what else Father would come up with to take its place. He got on his knees, careful to keep pressure off his broken left leg and crawled into the metal crate. Once inside, he turned so he sat on the iron floor and pulled his legs in as close to his chest as he possibly could without them touching._

 _"You have to pull in more than that if you're going to fit, precious," Father voiced before pushing Dazai's legs farther into the cage, causing his scarred back to press painfully into the bars behind him._

 _Pain blazed through Dazai's frame and he didn't notice Father closing the door until it, too, pressed into the skin of his legs. He gasped from the shock of it and tried to pull his injured leg away from the bars. Dazai turned teary eyes up to look at Father, waiting for what was next, but Father only walked towards the door._

 _"You will stay here until I come back for you," Father told him without looking back and Dazai blinked in confusion at his retreating frame._

_"That's... all?" Dazai asked with hesitant hope sounding in his voice._

 _Father reached the door before he finally turned to face Dazai. His dark silhouette smiled back at him eerily as he said, "That's all."_

 _And Dazai was immersed in total darkness._

* * *

 _At first, Dazai was relieved. Father wasn't going to hurt him today. But as minutes turned into hours and hours turned into days, time seemed to mesh together until Dazai could no longer tell how long he had remained in the dark, cramped enclosure. He grew more and more afraid until this fear was all he could remember._

 _Complete darkness permeated the room around Dazai, not even a hint of light visible within its confines. He lifted his hand, holding it shakily in front of his face but still, he couldn't see it at all. His eyes were useless in the pitch black room and the nothingness threatened to swallow him whole._

_As though the dark wasn't bad enough, the small room was surrounded by an oppressive silence. No sound from the outside world made it to Dazai, even as he strained his ears for just the slightest of noises. Dazai couldn't hear anything besides the rapid hammering of his own heart through his ears and his rasping, erratic breathes. He tried calling out, hoping someone would hear him—save him from the dark, soundless room—but not even an echo made it through the thick blackness._

 _It was so_ cold _here._

 _No warmth could be found in the remaining layer of clothing and bandages on his lower body and, even as tightly curled up as he was, none of his body heat seemed to make a difference. It was as though the darkness sucked the very heat from his body, leaving him shaking, teeth chattering, and desperate for warmth._

 _It wasn't long before the darkness and the silence started playing tricks on him. He started hearing things that weren't there, seeing things that_ couldn't _be there in the darkness, and it shattered his already fragile psyche. The voice he heard and the person he saw haunted his dreams when exhaustion forced him to sleep._

 _Masao Horiki stood in front of him with a taunting sneer on his deceptively kind face, somehow completely visible within the encompassing darkness. He crouched down, tilting his head in mocking concern, asking, "Did you_ really _think I cared about you? That I_ loved _you?"_

 _He started laughing, long and cruel and ugly._

 _"I can't_ believe _it! How could you ever think I would love a disgusting monster like you?!" he laughed again, "Oh, it was soo much fun, making you believe in a_ lie _. I just loved watching how it tore you apart when Shimazaki revealed it was all part of his games. The look on your face! Oh, it was priceless!"_

 _His grin as he looked at Dazai grew impossibly wide, splitting his face in half, "You are such a fool."_

 _And then he faded away back into the darkness, leaving Dazai sobbing uncontrollably as he tightened his damaged arms' hold on his legs._

 _What felt like seconds—but may have actually been hours—passed before another vision of Masao showed up. This time, the image of his caretaker had a bloody bullet wound seeping down from the middle of his forehead. His expression looked agonized, full of crippling pain and suffering as blood dripped down his face, hitting the floor with a loud pat._

 _It dripped and dripped, creating an ever-growing crimson puddle on the cobblestone floor. Dazai watched it fall in horror, unable to take his eyes off of the man he thought loved him for so long._

 _The broken figure stared sorrowfully at Dazai before rasping brokenly, "Why did you let this happen to me? Didn't you love me, Dazai?"_

 _The words came out slurred and mushed together as blood leaked into Masao's mouth before leaking out again. But even through the muddled words, Dazai understood every one of them and his throat constricted painfully as they continued to flow, stabbing relentlessly into his already shattered heart._

 _"You said you loved me, but you were pretending just like me, weren't you? Something like you isn't capable of real love. I knew it all along. I could see it in your cold, empty eyes."_

 _Masao suddenly appeared behind Dazai, the blood from his mouth dripping down onto Dazai's shoulder as he whispered poison into his small ear, "You are a_ monster _. An_ abomination _. You cause destruction and pain wherever you go. And you know what? The only person who could love such a horrible creature like you is Shimazaki and you deserve_ everything _he does to you simply because you exist."_

 _And just like the first illusion, this one vanished with only Dazai's screams as evidence it was ever there in the first place._

* * *

 _Throughout the rest of Dazai's isolation, specters would come and go, taunting and tormenting him. Every time he thought they had finally left him alone, another would appear in its place. They repeated the same thing over and over again, accusing him of being a monster. Every attempt he made to sleep was interrupted by their ear-splitting screams until Dazai eventually stopped trying._

_All he could do was wail and press his shaking hands over his ears, trying desperately to drown out the voices. For the first time in his life, Dazai wanted his father to come and get him._

_Just when Dazai was certain he would go completely mad, the door creaked open, shining the first light in days over the shaking, fragile boy._

_It was Father._

 _He had come_ back _for Dazai. A fresh set of tears spilled down his young face at the relief of seeing the man who had put him in here in the first place but, at the moment, Dazai didn't care about that. He was simply grateful Father was here now._

 _He watched Father approach through tear-filled eyes and waited—_ hoped _—for Father to let him out. Soon, Father crouched in front of his tiny cage and it felt like it took forever for him to unlock and open the door. Once he pulled the door completely open, Father spread his arms for a hug._

_Dazai didn't hesitate to fall into them, latching on desperately as his cries continued to escalate._

_Father held him for a moment more before finally speaking and Dazai thought it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard._

_"You know I love you, don't you, Osamu?" Father whispered in Dazai's ear as he trembled in his arms, rubbing his back in soothing circles._

 _Dazai's small arms wrapped tighter around Father's neck, clinging tightly to him for comfort and savoring the warmth of his body heat, the sound of his rough voice, the gentleness of his touch, and the light coming in through the door after being in the cold, dark, soundless room for so long. Dazai had never been so_ happy _to see Father before and he hoped he would never let him go again. He preferred even the pain of Father's torture than what he had just experienced. Dazai sobbed and sobbed into Father's shoulder, leaning into an embrace he normally shied away from for the comfort and safety it now provided._

 _This time, Dazai believed it when Father told him he loved him. He desperately clung to the idea that Father really_ was _doing this for his own good. That he really was just trying to help and that this pain—both physical and psychological—wasn't in vain. He didn't think he could stand it any longer, otherwise._

_Through his endless tears and aching, heaving sobs, Dazai cried back, "I love you, too, Father."_

_He hoped it would be enough to stop Father from putting him back in the dark, cramped cage again._

_He didn't see his Father's smile, devious and self-satisfied, as he lifted him up and took him away from that horrible room._

* * *

Dazai awoke with a barely choked off scream, not loud enough to be heard outside of his own room. His breath came out in heaves, shuddering his chest violently as he tried to calm himself down.

 _It was just a dream_. He had to remember it was just a dream and he wasn't _really_ still in that cramped cage. That had been years ago and definitely was. Not. Now.

The words Dazai spoke to himself appeared to be working until he blinked and realized his eyes had been open the entire time. It was so _dark_ , it almost didn't make a difference if he had his eyes opened or closed and suddenly, Dazai couldn't remember where he was. Maybe he hadn't been taken out of that dark room after all and he was still waiting for Father to come get him.

Dazai's heart thundered erratically in his chest and his throat constricted painfully, leaving him struggling for air.

Had everything just been his imagination? Had he really just made up a whole life for himself outside of this torment? But no, everything had seemed so _real_. He couldn't have made up all those people, could he?

He tried to think through the panic, sort out what was real and what was not but it was difficult through his lightheadedness and screaming lungs in need of oxygen. Dazai gripped his chest in an attempt to ease the pain and realized there were no bars, nothing constraining him like in his memories. He could move and if he could move, he wasn't trapped and if he wasn't trapped...

He sucked in a lungful of air, recognition coming to him, and promptly choked on it. Dazai's breaths came out sporadically as his body tried to make up for lost air.

It had taken him longer than it should have to remember where he was but even when he finally did, the fear didn't abate and Dazai couldn't even his breathing out. It was too dark, making it impossible for him to calm down.

Light.

He needed _light_.

Dazai turned painfully slowly onto his stomach, trying to get his body to work normally through its refusal to breathe in more than short gasps. Once there, he spotted the dark outline of his floor lamp through the limited light he now noticed coming in through the window. It was a few feet away and Dazai tried to grab it but it was just out of his reach.

Struggling to get his limbs working correctly, Dazai started a slow half-crawl towards the lamp. His vision had blurred around the edges by the time he reached the light source and it took a few clumsy tries before he was able to turn it on. As soon as the room was illuminated, Dazai found his breath.

Still clutching the lamp, Dazai closed his eyes and placed his weary head against the cool metal, bringing in slow breaths one at a time. He hadn't noticed there was another presence in the room until he heard the shifting of fabric. His head snapped to just right of the lamp he held, eyes focusing on the figure hidden in the shadows. As he watched, the figure in the shadows moved onto his knees and Dazai saw a hand coming towards him.

Reacting faster than he thought his near hypoxic state would allow, Dazai slammed himself against the wall right next to the window, all the while cursing himself for not having a gun anymore. The figure paused, not moving any closer, but also not lowering its hovering hand. Dazai watched the figure and, as he stared at its piercing blue eyes, he couldn't help but feel he should _recognize_ them. Framing those paralyzing cerulean eyes was flaming red hair, reminiscent of a burning sunset.

The longer he started, the more he felt the figure was missing something... constant. Something always on its person. Usually there containing some of the wild blaze exuding from its vivid red hair.

Dazai narrowed his chestnut eyes, trying to piece together how he should know this figure but it just _would not come_ to his unusually muddled mind. As he stared, Dazai noticed the figure's lips moving but he could not hear what they were saying over the roaring in his ears. The deafening sound began to die down with the calming of his heart and the figure's words started making it through to him.

"-thing's okay, Dazai. You know me. We're in your apartment with the Agency. You're _safe_ here."

And suddenly Dazai realized he knew the figure. It was-

"Chuuya?" Dazai croaked, throat dry after his frantic breaths.

"Yeah, " Chuuya looked considerably relieved at the sound of Dazai's voice and he lowered his arm from its raised position, "it's me... You okay?"

Rather than answering Chuuya's hesitant question and missing the worry exuding from his azure eyes, Dazai simply blinked at him in confusion, "What are you doing here Chuuya?"

Any relief Chuuya felt at Dazai's acknowledgment evaporated and he crinkled his brow in increasing concern, "You... don't remember?"

Dazai blinked again and thought back to the night before. It soon came rushing back to him.

" _Oh_ , " he said, covering his face in shame at the memory.

Silence fell for a few minutes before Chuuya spoke up again.

"You had a nightmare."

It wasn't a question so much as an accusation, daring Dazai to deny it when the evidence was right there in front of him. Dazai removed his face from his hand, looking up to see Chuuya glaring at him with calculating blue eyes.

"...What?" Dazai said dumbly, reeling from the abrupt change in topic and wondering if he had heard right.

"You had a _nightmare_ ," the words were repeated vehemently, angry at the perceived deflection, "and you are _going_ to tell me what it was about."

Dazai sighed heavily before stretching out from his cramped position, loosely folding his legs instead. He knew it was unlikely but he had hoped Chuuya wouldn't ask about that, especially when it was still so fresh on his mind. Of course, Chuuya would want answers now with how severely Dazai reacted after the nightmare. Dazai once again wondered why—no, _how_ —Chuuya could care so much about something as despicable as him.

Dazai looked out the still dark window as a way to avoid Chuuya's gaze, "It's still dark out, Chuuya. Let's do this in the morning."

"You know as well as I do that won't happen! You'll pretend _nothing_ happened and push it aside like you always do!"

"And what's wrong with that?" Dazai snapped, turning his own glare unto Chuuya as he continued to press the subject, "Why can't you just leave it alone?"

"Because you looked _terrified_ ," Chuuya hissed back as he leaned forward, now only a couple feet away from Dazai "and I have _never_ seen you so scared in my life. I've never even seen you _slightly_ afraid before. And then there you were, _in your own room_ , so terrified out of your mind you didn't even know where you were. That's something you need to talk about and I am _not_ leaving until you do."

Chuuya paused, eyes still blazing as he waited for Dazai's answer. Quiet filled the room while Dazai thought of what to say to that. He would have just shot out a snarky response like he usually did but something about Chuuya's appearance stopped him. Chuuya looked... haggard. More so than Dazai had ever seen him, even after using corruption.

His usually pristine clothes bore deep wrinkles that spoke of restless anxious movement. Both his jacket and coat were conspicuously missing from his frame. Looking around, Dazai spotted them a few feet from the door, tossed carelessly onto his floor in a messy pile. The hat Chuuya usually so proudly wore on his head was nowhere to be seen, lost some time between arriving at Dazai's apartment to the current situation. It somehow felt _wrong_ for Chuuya not to be wearing it now, when Dazai could easily read his expressions and see the worry and anger and concern so clearly written on his face. Dark circles formed under his eyes, probably from staying up to watch over Dazai throughout the night. Even his hair was a mess and if Dazai had to guess, he would say Chuuya had been running his hands through it continuously in anxiety for it to be in the state it was now.

A heavy sensation suddenly formed in Dazai's heart and throat, and he couldn't bring himself to argue with Chuuya any longer.

"It was about Father," Dazai whispered woodenly, not looking at Chuuya as the words left his mouth and missing the surprise on his face, "I was five and he locked me in a dark room for... days, maybe a week, I don't know. The entire time I was there, I wished he would come back. I _begged_ for him to come back. When he finally did come for me, I was so grateful, I didn't even care he was the one who put me there in the first place. He hugged me, and I _clung_ to him."

Dazai paused, trying to get moisture back in his mouth before reluctantly continuing, "I always hated it when he hugged me because it meant pain, but at that moment, I didn't care if he hurt me again. I wanted him to hold me and never let go. And when he told me he loved me, I believed it. I told him I loved him back, and I _did_. He hurt me in so many ways and I _loved_ him."

Dazai ended derisively and didn't look up, instead opting to study his fingers, wondering how they remained so unscarred when the rest of him had not been so lucky.

He didn't look up as Chuuya shifted his position or when the mafioso suddenly sat directly in front of him. For a minute, Dazai worried Chuuya would try hugging him again, but he only put his hand on his shoulder. Dazai still flinched away from the touch, but it wasn't as bad as a hug and so he didn't shrug him off.

He looked up at Chuuya when it became apparent he wouldn't say anything without some sort of acknowledgment from Dazai and when he did, he wished he hadn't. Chuuya's face was a storm of concern, sorrow, and grief as he looked at him. Dazai didn't know what to do. In the past few days, he had seen this expression over and over on the faces of everyone he knew and still, he had no idea how to get rid of it or even how to react. He was a deer caught in headlights and for once, he wanted someone to tell him what to do. How to fix this.

Dazai was _tired_ of breaking everything.

Chuuya wasn't supposed to care. Not caring kept him safe. No one was supposed to care and yet they did. And Dazai was sorry he had somehow tricked all these wonderful people into caring about a monster.

Dazai's self-depreciating thoughts abruptly scattered as Chuuya headbutted him. _Hard_.

Dazai dropped to the floor, clutching his face and hissing in pain while he reeled from the unexpected attack. He heard Chuuya heave a sigh off to the side before his voice floated to him.

"You're a real idiot, Dazai," Chuuya said softly with a tone of voice contradicting his earlier violence, "You're thinking about something unnecessary again, aren't you?"

When Dazai dared to look up at Chuuya from the floor, he found his expression hadn't changed. Instead, it seemed to grow sadder than before.

"None of that was your fault. It was cruel of him to do that to you. It was _sick_ and he used it to make you reliant on him. You ever heard of Stockholm Syndrome?"

The blank expression Chuuya received in response answered that question quite clearly for the mafioso.

"It's when a victim of abuse develops emotional attachments to their abuser."

"I wasn't abused."

A vein twitched in Chuuya's forehead at the denial and he watched as the brunette finally sat up from his crumpled position, "The fact that you are even _saying_ that proves my point. You were definitely abused."

"It wasn't abuse," Dazai denied again, seemingly oblivious to Chuuya's rising temper.

"If it wasn't abuse, then what the _hell_ do you call it, huh? 'Cause I don't see how it could be anything else unless you'd rather I call it _torture_. It certainly was that as well."

Chuuya was trying to keep his temper under control—he had yelled enough at Dazai as it was—but he didn't think he could contain his rage if Dazai continued to defend that monster.

"Abuse implies it was undeserved and you know as well as I do I deserved it more than anyone."

Chuuya was shocked dumb. When what Dazai said fully registered in Chuuya's mind, he looked desperately into Dazai's eyes for any sign he did not actually believe any of that. All hope vanished, however, when he saw the firm conviction within his hazelnut gaze. Dazai _truly_ thought he deserved the cruelty his father inflicted on him. Nothing he said yesterday had made it through Dazai's thick skull and Chuuya wasn't sure if it ever would.

But that wouldn't stop him from trying until it did.

The fury Chuuya had been pushing down came roaring to the surface all at once. Fury was the only way he knew how to handle situations like this and he just hoped it wouldn't make everything worse. He grabbed the younger man by the collar, dragging him up until they were eye to eye, "Don't. _Ever_. Say that again. You hear me? It isn't _true_. Why can't you _understand_ that?"

Dazai gave him a look of such glaring incomprehension and disbelief Chuuya couldn't look at him anymore. He abruptly let go of his collar, shoving him in the process and turned away from him, pacing. He ran his hands through his hair—it was becoming a habit at this point—and unsuccessfully tried to breathe through his frustration. Dazai was so freakin' messed up, Chuuya wondered if he even _knew_ how normal relationships were supposed to work.

Dumb question, of course, he didn't. Just look at how things went with Akutagawa, and that was toned _down_ compared to what Dazai himself went through. Chuuya saw that Dazai now understood how he treated Akutagawa was wrong by how he treated Atsushi in comparison but, at the time, Dazai thought cruelty was the only way he could connect with people. He seemed to be trying to make up for it now but try as he might it would never completely repair the damage he did to Akutagawa. Just like Dazai hadn't healed from his father and probably never would.

Chuuya stopped his pacing and wondered if that was the reason Dazai had been so nasty with him. Had he been trying to connect in some twisted, screwed up way? Perhaps Oda was the only one who saw Dazai's clumsy attempts for what they were and that was how he could wedge his way into the Demon Prodigy's frozen, underdeveloped heart.

Dazai spoke up from his slumped position against the wall, drawing Chuuya's attention back to him, "I don't understand why you are so upset about all of this. What happened to me is no worse than what Atsushi went through in his orphanage or what you suffered as a science experiment."

Chuuya whirled to face Dazai, glaring viscously at Dazai as he exploded with rage, "Yes, it was! You were mercilessly _tortured_ by your _father_ for years! I don't even _remember_ anything from my time in the lab! How can you even compare the two?! They are _nothing_ alike!"

Chuuya was going to mention how he was sure Atsushi, as terrible as his life may have been, couldn't have been treated nearly as deplorably as Dazai himself, but Dazai's soft voice stopped him before he got the words out.

"Just because you don't remember it, it doesn't mean it didn't hurt or affect you."

Chuuya stopped short and quickly deflated with a sigh as he dropped to sit cross-legged on the floor, hands resting on his knees and face to the floor.

"No, it doesn't," he said, all too aware of how those experiments affected him, leaving him with a power he _could not_ control and how it ravaged his body with every use. After a moment, he looked back up at Dazai with searching eyes, "Tell me Dazai, do you think Atsushi and I deserved what happened to us?"

Dazai stared at him like he had grown two heads and looked deeply insulted by the question, "Of course I don't. Is that what you think?"

Chuuya saw in Dazai's eyes how horrified he was that Chuuya thought that of him and the mafioso was quick to deny it.

"No, it was just a question, Dazai. I'm just wondering how you can think you deserved it when you said yourself that we didn't. Where's the difference there? What makes you deserve it when we didn't?"

"You're not a monster."

"And you are?" He gently asked, trying to understand Dazai's reasoning and catch his eyes.

" _Yes_ ," the brunette whispered, refusing to meet Chuuya's gaze as he fidgeted with his fingers.

"Why?"

"You know _why_ ," Dazai snapped, finally looking up and Chuuya saw the hollowness within his dull brown orbs, "You know better than anyone else why."

The redhead shook his head, his hair falling over his eyes, "You weren't always the Demon Prodigy. You didn't even get that title until you were fifteen. Before that, you were just a kid in an impossible situation with no way to defend himself. And that _wasn't_ fair. You didn't. Deserve it."

Dazai dropped his gaze to his lap again. Chuuya leaned forward and adamantly repeated, "You _didn't_."

Dazai didn't acknowledge his statement and just continued to stare unseeingly into space. Chuuya grew sad as he watched Dazai, who was usually so smart and clever and _confident_ , unable to understand how he was treated wasn't somehow his fault.

This time, when Dazai asked for an out, Chuuya didn't deny him.

"Can I go back to bed now?" The brunette asked blankly.

Chuuya almost flinched at the lifeless tone and hunched posture but answered anyway, listlessly, "Yeah."

As Chuuya got up to move back to his earlier position across the room, Dazai's tenor voice followed him, "There's an extra futon in the closet as well as the yutakas."

Chuuya looked back down at him in surprise but Dazai only curled further into himself. Chuuya didn't pursue the matter. He opened the closet and remove the futon and two yutakas, tossing one to Dazai. He set up his futon next to Dazai's, keeping his back turned as they both changed into their yutakas.

Without saying a word, Chuuya settled down into his borrowed futon, back turned towards Dazai as he got into his own. He didn't comment when Dazai left the lamp on.

* * *

 **A/N:** As always, please tell me what you think in the comments. How did it flow? Is there anything I need to fix? What did you like or dislike? Anything at all! I'll see you all next time!


	9. Misconceptions and Miscommunications

**A/N:** First of all, I wanted to thank all my patient readers and everyone who reviewed on my story. Thank you all so much! I loved reading your reviews and I am glad you all like it! Thank you for your support. Secondly, I apologize for the super late update. My mom has been sick since October and we just found out in March that she has non-smokers lung cancer, so unfortunately, that means that updates will continue to be haphazard but I will be working on it.

Anyway! I hope you enjoy this chapter and leave reviews on your way out!

* * *

Just for a moment, as he hovered somewhere between unconsciousness and the waking world, Chuuya was at peace. He felt warm. Warmer than he could remember being for the past several days—when his thoughts filled him with ice and biting cold—and all his worries seemed so far away.

He vaguely remembered being upset about something. Something important. Something heart-shattereing.

Something that needed a more delicate hand than he was used to giving but in his half asleep state, none of that seemed to matter. He could just _be_ , without the stress of his life getting in his way. Of course, as Chuuya had come to expect in his hard twenty-two years of life, tranquil feelings like that never lasted long.

He was brought out of his blissful peace by a pressing heat somewhere on his back. It wasn't painful or even necessarily unpleasant, but it's unusual presence woke him nonetheless. His mind started to clear and shattered all tranquility like a sledge hammer striking glass as memories came rushing back. With consciousness came awareness and Chuuya realized the warmth between his shoulder blades came from someone close behind him.

Looking over his shoulder, Chuuya saw Dazai curled against him, his head pressing into his back seemingly seeking comfort. The hot air from his deep breathing combined with the close contact seemed to be the cause of the heat on his back.

Chuuya was surprised Dazai had gotten so close to him. He _never_ willingly made any physical contact in his sleep, not even accidentally. It just never happened. Chuuya had seen Dazai allow himself to freeze to the point of hypothermia without ever seeking warmth from another person. Even while he was sleeping and the natural reaction would be to gravitate towards heat sources, Dazai shied away from it. It was like he had some defense mechanism that made sure he never got too close. He just couldn't trust anyone enough to let them get close to him while he slept.

For him to be curled against Chuuya now was highly unusual, and yet, with everything that's been happening recently, it wasn't exactly surprising. Dazai knew, even subconsciously, that Chuuya wouldn't let anyone hurt him while he was so vulnerable. And as he slept, the only way for him to _know_ Chuuya was still there was to get close, even as it went against _everything_ he used to protect himself.

At the same time this proved to Chuuya that Dazai _did_ still trust him—as much as Dazai could bring himself to trust _anyone_ —it also saddened him. Dazai literally had to be going through hell before he let himself seek the comfort he so desperately needed and Chuuya's heart ached for him.

Chuuya sat up slowly, careful to not wake Dazai prematurely and took a moment to study Dazai while he was too unaware to wear a mask or put on a show.

In his sleep, Dazai's shields were down, completely exposing him to the world. In his sleep, Dazai couldn't evade scrutiny with witty comments or playful antics. In his sleep, Dazai looked haunted. The weight of years of harshness making an appearance on his young face. Light streamed through the window, emphasizing his too pale face bringing out the dark circles under his eyes with startling contrast, hinting at many long sleepless nights. Even through the layer of bandages, Chuuya could see the sharp lines of his collar bones, emphasizing just how _thin_ the taller man was. He had gained some weight since joining the Armed Agency but it was still too few. If Chuuya had had any doubt Dazai was still suffering from his father's cruel experiment of starvation, it was now gone.

All of these were clear signs something was seriously wrong that Chuuya _should_ have noticed and questioned years ago. Maybe not when they had first met—Dazai had been _so obnoxious_ back then—but he should have noticed when he had learned to tolerate him better. Especially since they spent most of their time together with all the missions they got assigned.

Now that he thought about it, it wasn't often that Chuuya actually _saw_ Dazai sleeping and if he did, it was usually because Dazai had gotten himself hurt again. On missions, he would always go to bed later than Chuuya and wake up earlier than him. Half the time, Chuuya thought he didn't sleep at all. But there were times when Chuuya was woken by soft unidentifiable noises in middle of the night and he saw how restless Dazai seemed. Like even in his dreams, he could never relax.

At the time, Chuuya just brushed it off, assuming Dazai was only scheming more ways to make his life miserable and didn't bother taking a closer look. But even then, sometimes he would notice how exhausted Dazai appeared in the mornings. How he seemed to curl into himself and his mind seemed a million miles away. At those moments, Chuuya allowed himself to be concerned, if only a little, and he did everything in his power to distract the younger boy. Get him out of his head and forget whatever it was that pulled him in.

Now that he had an idea what those dreams were about, Chuuya wished he had tried harder and cared enough to ask. How Dazai was able to hide what was apparent in his sleep everyday told Chuuya that Dazai had a lot of practice in making people forget how unhealthy—how thin and tired and _empty—_ he looked or that they even cared in the first place.

Even as Chuuya nagged constantly about how Dazai needed to eat more, how he looked like a stiff wind could blow him over, Dazai could somehow laugh it all off and turned the conversation in another direction before Chuuya even knew what happened. It wouldn't be until later, when Dazai was off somewhere else and Chuuya entered his Mafia-appointed apartment for the night, that he remembered he had been trying to get Dazai to eat something. And that he hadn't seen him eat for days.

And now, all those masks and evasions and facades were no where to be seen. Washed away in sleep and utter exhaustion. Chuuya refused to look the other any longer. He refused to just stand by as Dazai destroyed himself with neglect and self-hatred. He would do _whatever_ it took to get Dazai through this, no matter how long that took.

And that meant he first had to get Dazai to eat.

With that in mind, Chuuya quietly got up from the futon. Noticing the light still coming from the lamp, Chuuya turned it off. He watched Dazai's face to make sure the slight darkening of the room didn't disturb him. When he saw no adverse reaction, Chuuya pulled away, thankful for the sun's comforting presence for Dazai.

With one last look back at Dazai, Chuuya ambled his way into Dazai's barren living room, shutting the door behind him. He walked through the kitchen, checking every cabinet, drawer, and cupboard for signs of food. When he checked the fridge and still didn't find anything, he knocked his head against the fridge door and exhaled a deep sigh as he closed his eyes in frustration.

"Of course," Chuuya let out another agitated breath, "Why did I expect him to have anything here?"

Chuuya was drawn away from his self-recrimination by a polite knock on the door. Looking over, he furrowed his brow, wondering which Agency member it could be. Before he could think on it too long, a muffled voice carried through the door over to him.

"Dazai, are you in there? How are you doing?"

'Ah, it's the were-tiger Akutagawa was always going off about,' Chuuya thought, pulling himself away from the fridge.

Scratching the back of his head, Chuuya headed for the door, for once not caring he was only in a yukata and not exactly up to his own standards of presentability. He abruptly pulled the door open, revealing both Atsushi and Kyouka, shock falling over their faces at his unexpected appearance.

Chuuya made a quick note of Kyouka, happy to see her looking so well. The Agency had been good for her, Kouyou would be glad to hear it. She had been worried since Kyouka left and even though Dazai had promised she'd be fine, Kouyou couldn't help being concerned about the young girl.

Folding his arm loosely, Chuuya leaned against the door frame, expression level as he looked at them, questioningly, "Yeah? What do you want?"

Snapping out of his shock, Atsushi started sputtering, "Wha-whe-ho-? What are you doing here?! Where's Dazai?! Did you hurt him?!"

Grimacing, Chuuya put a finger in his ear to block out the sound of Atsushi's yells, "Quiet down, will ya? You're giving me a headache."

"Where's Dazai?!" Atsushi asked again, panic overtaking him as he no doubt imagined many horrible things Chuuya had done to his mentor.

"Calm down. Dazai's sleeping in his room. You'll wake him up with all the noise," noticing the groceries in Kyouka's hands, Chuuya nodded towards them, "That for Dazai?"

Eyes still wide in surprise, Kyouka looked down at the bag in her hands before looking back at Chuuya with her no-longer-icy blue eyes. She nodded in affirmation, and with her soft voice said, "Yes, we try to make Dazai breakfast everyday before work."

A small smile made its way onto Chuuya's face, 'So they really do care about the mackerel, after all.'

"Great," Chuuya said as he reached out, grabbing the bag from her and proceeded towards the kitchen to put the items on the counter.

* * *

Atsushi and Kyouka shared a stunned look before turning their attention back to the Mafia Executive. Cautiously, they followed Nakahara into the apartment, watching with confusion as the man pulled ingredients out of the bag and started rummaging through cabinets to pull out pans.

Nakahara... was not what Atsushi expected.

He wasn't _anything_ like what Atsushi had come to expect from the Port Mafia. He wasn't like Akutagawa, all snarls and anger and hate. Though from what Dazai said about the man on the rare occasion he brought up his past in the mafia, he thought he'd look... angrier. Always with a perpetual scowl on his face and scathing words on his tongue. Atsushi had gotten the impression that _Chuuya—_ as Dazai liked to call him with glee in his eyes—was just an older version of Akutagawa.

The man in front of him seemed none of those things.

Nakahara looked calm as he chopped the vegetables and meat with remarkable skill. His face was smooth of any signs of the temper Dazai spoke of but as Atsushi looked closer, he noticed he was a little red around the eyes. Like he had been crying. He also looked as though he hadn't been sleeping well and judging by his yukata and disheveled hair, he had slept at Dazai's apartment last night.

Biting his lip, Atsushi looked at Kyouka again, hoping she would have some idea of what was going on. She seemed to understand and chose that moment to speak up.

"Chuuya," she started with her soft voice, surprising Atsushi with the familiarity she seemed to have with the executive by using his first name, "What are you doing here? Is Dazai okay?"

Chuuya put the chopped vegetables and meat into the pan, bringing it to the stove before turning back towards the children. He raised an eyebrow at them as he leaned back against the countertop.

"I told you he was in his room. I didn't hurt him, if that's what you're asking," Chuuya stated, watching them with his red-rimmed blue eyes.

"No, I.. I didn't mean that," Kyouka said, stepping closer to the kitchen island separating them with imploring eyes, "You look upset, is all."

Atsushi wondered what sort of relationship the two of them had when Kyouka was trapped in the mafia. He thought she had just been close to Kouyou.

Chuuya let out a coarse laugh, shaking his head in derision as a crooked smirk made its way onto his face, "That's an understatement."

He paused for a moment, the smirk falling off his face as fast as it had come, "Yesterday... I had to stop another of Dazai's suicide attempts. It's been four years since I last saw him. Since I last had to stop him from hurting himself and still it's the same song and dance. But now... now I finally _know_ why he does it."

Atsushi's mind came an abrupt halt. Dazai had tried to kill himself again and Atsushi had _no idea._ He wasn't there to _stop_ it. If Nakahara hadn't come along... Dazai would be _dead_ right now and no one would have been around to prevent it.

They were all so worried about finding the mastermind behind the photos so he wouldn't hurt Dazai again that they forgot Dazai was just as likely to hurt himself.

It was Kyouka who made the connection first and her hesitant voice drawn Atsushi out his growing horror.

"You saw the pictures. Didn't you, Chuuya?" Her voice was quiet, filled with the same horror as Atsushi as he thought back to the horribly graphic images. He had to push back the growing bile to keep from vomiting right then and there.

Nakahara's azure eyes hooded instantly at the mention, his voice rough as he answered, "Yeah... I did. Dazai brought them over a couple weeks ago. Thought the boss had something to do with it."

With the next words, the Mafia executive's face darkened and Atsushi got the first glimpse at the furious anger Dazai claimed Nakahara was capable of, "Even worse than that, I saw the journals and the _videos_. What kind of _sicko_ makes _torture videos_?"

Disgust oozed off of the redhead's voice and Atsushi was surprised at the genuine anger and concern on behalf of Dazai. Once again, his thoughts on the Port Mafia was wrong. He didn't think anyone there cared about Dazai... well, except Akutagawa in his weird, obsessive way.

And then Nakahara's words really registered in his unusually slow thinking processes. Suddenly feeling impossibly cold, Atsushi asked, "Wait, did you say... _videos_?"

The stormy expression remained on the shorter man's face as he nodded, "Akutagawa and I found a whole box full of them back at the base. You're Dazai's friends. I thought you should know."

There was a indistinguishable roaring in Atsushi's ears as he pulled out his phone. With numb, trembling fingers, Atsushi sent a grim message to Kunikida.

[Kunikida. Nakahara is at Dazai's apartment. He says there are _videos_ of Dazai being tortured. Please, come quick.]

* * *

She knew she should sleep. She knew that sitting here staring at the same thing for days on end wouldn't solve anything. It wouldn't undo what had happened. It would't make it any less real or any less terrible.

She _knew_ this.

But it seemed impossible to tear her eyes away. She couldn't help but think that if she only looked _long enough_ the answers would come to her and she would finally be able to help in some tangible way.

But everything was just too horrible and no amount of wishing or praying could change that.

Yosano sat in a disheveled slump on the floor of her Agency-administered apartment. Dozens of nightmare-inducing photograph surrounded her, spread out so that each picture was in grisly focus. The longer she looked at them, the clearer it became how completely out of depth she was for this.

Physical wounds she can fix, no problem. Even with the unfortunate effect Dazai's ability had on her own, she had been trained with enough medical knowledge to get by without simply relying on her ability. But not only were these wounds old—far, far too late to heal—they were too brutal to not leave serious mental scars as well.

And those... those were the kind of wounds she couldn't even hope to heal. That, she also knew. And it _killed_ her.

But Yosano would not give up. If she couldn't heal Dazai's emotional scars—couldn't ease the nightmares or make Dazai see that _none of this was his fault—_ the least she could do was find out _what_ has caused him lasting damage. And maybe then she could help him not be in pain anymore.

If she could at least do that much, they could work on the rest of it together. If Dazai could trust her to, that is.

Loud pounding filled her small apartment, startling her enough she accidentally sent photos flying in her surprise. Cursing softly, Yosano stood up, half heartedly brushing off her clothes and straightening out her hair before heading to the door. By the time she started walking to her door, the pounding had become frantic and she heard Kunikida from the other side.

"Yosano, are you in there?! Yosano, please, its urgent!"

With her panic rising at the hurried voice of Kunikida, she quickened her pace, pulling the door open as fast as she could, not caring as it banged against the wall.

"What, Kunikida? What is it? What's wrong?" Yosano's brow furrowed anxiously as she watched Kunikida pull his fist back abruptly when he noticed the door was no longer there.

He took a moment to catch his breath before pushing up his glasses, "Atsushi just texted me. Chuuya Nakahara is in Dazai's apartment right now. He said there weren't only photos... There are videos, as well."

Yosano's eyes widened in horror at the revelation. As if the pictures weren't enough, she couldn't imagine the horrors a video would contain. She hurried back into her room and pulled on her shoes, sparing a glance at the photographs before following Kunikida back to Dazai's room.

* * *

Chuuya worked methodically on the food, pretending he hadn't noticed Atsushi send a text with his phone. Honestly, he would be more concerned if the kid _hadn't_ contacted other agency members. You don't just leave a known enemy unchecked in the apartment of one of your own. Even if said enemy showed no signs of becoming violent. It just wasn't good sense and he would question whether it really was safe to leave Dazai in their care if they didn't take even the simplest of precautions. He knew Dazai could take care of himself normally. For the most part, anyway, but now... Now he didn't think Dazai would even _try._ And he needed all the help he could get at the moment.

As Chuuya took the food off of the stove he dished out four servings, being extra generous with Dazai's helping. Since the kids had brought the food in the first place, he least he could do was be considerate and make food for them. Once that was done, he set aside the food and once again leaned back against the adjoining counter, waiting for them to either speak or for whoever they had texted to come barging in.

The kids had gone quiet after he told them about the videos and who could blame them? The photos were bad enough, but videos? That opened a whole other box of horrors. He wished he'd never seen it but well... at least now someone _knew_ and if it had to be anyone, Chuuya was glad it had been him. Then whole experience had been quite a shock for Akutagawa though. He had been pretty subdued these last couple weeks and Chuuya sympathized. He really did.

It was hard learning that the person you looked up to—the person you _idolized—_ was more broken than you were.

Just as the silence started becoming awkward between the three of them, loud footsteps were heard beyond the door to the hallway. It surprised no one when, in the next moment, the door slammed open, revealing a harried Kunikida. Yosano appeared at the door in a much more sedate pace, but her expression betrayed her worry. Whether that worry came from Chuuya's presence or not remained to be seen.

Kunikida caught his breath quickly as he looked around the room, no doubt looking for signs of Dazai. Not seeing him, his face turned stormy as he instead locked eyes with Chuuya. He stomped into the room, fists clenched tightly and came to a stop directly across from the mafia executive in front of the counter. The shorter man had straightedges up to his full height as Kunikida approached, keeping his expression neutral and unbothered, his posture unconcerned.

It wouldn't be a good idea to start a fight right now. Not when there were far more important things to worry about.

"Where's Dazai?" Dazai's new partner ground out, his teeth clenched as he, too, was seemingly trying to keep his temper in check.

Chuuya sighed heavily, "How many times am I gonna have to answer that question? As I told the kids, he's sleeping in his room, though I'm not sure for much longer with all the racket you've been making. Do you even _know_ how to be quiet. I mean, geeze, you couldn't be any louder if you tried."

...So much for not picking a fight.

He wasn't sure why he said that. He had intended to play nice so he could explain the situation calmly to the Agency, but something about the man just irritated him. Chuuya tried not to think too hard about why that was because he was too old to be jealous about Dazai's new partner. And too practical to be comparing the ways in which they were similar.

Damn. Why did Dazai always have to have angry partners? Chuuya felt like the world was laughing at him.

Kunikida's eyebrow twitched and he took a menacing step towards Chuuya before Yosano stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. He didn't acknowledge her, though as he continued to try to glare holes into Chuuya.

"What gives _you_ the right to be here?" The words were spoken evenly but they sent a sharp jolt down Chuuya's spine, "What gives you the right when the mafia is the cause for all of this? Where do you get off pretending that you care about Dazai when the _mafia_ has completely destroyed him? You have _no right_ to come here now and act like you know anything about what's _good_ for him. Dazai doesn't need you around to screw things up for him and _mess_ with his _head_!"

Anger consumed Chuuya at each hateful accusation. Every word sent waves of it throughout his entire body, filling every pore, every muscle, every _tendon_ until Chuuya was _thrumming_ with it. But this anger was different than he was used to. It didn't burn him with its raging fire, clouding his mind and eating away at his judgement until the was nothing left but blazing all-consuming _fury_.

This anger came to him as frigid, bone-chilling cold. Intense and bitter and overwhelming. It froze the blood flow in his body, bringing everything into stark clarity. Instead of overriding his judgement like he was used to when he was angry, it enhanced it, allowing him to find words that would _hurt_ and _cut_ and _shatter._

This anger was reminiscent of Dazai, and how he could completely destroy someone by simply using the right words. And Chuuya used this new cold, _freezing_ anger because he would not stand here and listen to someone accuse him of not caring when _they knew nothing_. Nothing about Chuuya or even about Dazai. Because Dazai had tried _so hard_ to hide the worst parts of himself from the Armed Detective Agency. The parts of him that hurt himself and doesn't know how to stop. Chuuya could tell, just by the way they act around Dazai. They had no _idea_ how truly broken he was. None of them had any idea just how much Dazai didn't want them to see _._

With ice in his eyes and glare cold enough to freeze someone in their tracks, Chuuya stared Kunikida down. When he spoke, his words cut without mercy.

"What do you know about Dazai? Huh?" Chuuya watched as Kunikida's glared faltered slightly, losing some of his conviction in the accusing words he had just spat at Chuuya as he pressed on, "Did you know the reason he always tries to kill himself by drowning is because he _can't_ _swim_? Or that he tried to do it yesterday and _you weren't there to stop it_?"

Kunikida flinched horrible at the words, taking a step back as though that would protect him from the onslaught of heartrending words. "How about the fact that Dazai is completely blind in his right eye, no vision in it at al? Did you know _that_?"

Chuuya's face suddenly crumpled, his gaze dropping and instead of anger, sadness shined in his cerulean orbs. When he spoke again, his voice came out more as a haunted half-whisper than anything else, "Have you every held him for _hours_ just so he wouldn't hurt himself? Or _begged_ him to eat after watching him wither away because he wouldn't care for himself?"

Chuuya reinforced his glare tenfold and brought his gaze back to Kunikida's shocked hazel ones. He saw the pain filling in his eyes. The guilt and remorse. The horror dawning on his face. But he wouldn't relent now, not after Kunikida told him _he didn't care_.

"How about why he left the mafia? Do you even _know_ what caused him to leave the only place he knew in the first place? You _don't_ , do you? Because you never bothered to ask. _You_ didn't care. To you, he was only a nuisance with an obsession for suicide. I bet you never took that seriously either, did you? It was all just one big joke to , it never was for me. So don't _me_ I don't have the _right._ I have more right than _any_ of you."

Stunned silence permeated throughout the room at the end of Chuuya's angry litany. No one dared to so much as breath too loudly as though they were afraid it would set him off on another tongue lashing. Chuuya didn't even have enough energy to feel smug about it. He was too emotionally drained and there was nothing to be satisfied with in this situation.

He looked out at the Agency and all he saw was how much this was hurting them too. At some point during his rant, Kyouka had moved closer to Atsushi, grabbing onto his sleeve in hope it would bring her some comfort and Atsushi looked as though his favorite dog had just been ran over by a bus. Both of them were crying. Dazai's doctor friend bit hard enough into her lip it drew blood, her expression was tight and she looked like she was trying not to join the kids in their waterworks. And Kunikida... all color had drained from his face, leaving every emotion available for Chuuya to read like an open book.

Sighing deeply, Chuuya ran his fingers through his unkempt hair, trying to release any remaining tension he felt.

"Look, I'm not here to fight. All I want is to help Dazai, like you, okay?" Chuuya got a stiff nod in answer and he nodded back, "Okay. Good."

Another awkward moment passed before Yosano pulled herself together enough to say, "Atsushi said something about there being... videos. Is that correct?"

Chuuya's attention snapped towards Yosano and he saw Atsushi fidget from the corner of his eye. The kid obviously thought Chuuya was going to get upset at him for telling his coworkers about that. Luckily for him, Chuuya had wanted him to do that from the beginning. It was much easier than tracking them down himself.

Damn, he really had to stop getting distracted. Nothing was going to make this easier so he might as well get it over with as soon as possible.

Chuuya sighed again, grabbing the counter in front of him and slumping forward as though everything had suddenly become too much to bear. Morosely, he said, "Yeah, that's right. I found a whole box full of videos and journals in the mafia records. I could only get through one of the tapes. It was... it was horrible. His father was a real piece of work, the sadistic bastard."

"You knew it was his father?" Atsushi couldn't help but blurt out, blushing fiercely but resolute in his question.

Atsushi still couldn't believe Dazai's own father did that to him. He heard that fathers were supposed to care about their children. They were supposed to protect them and keep them safe from harm, not torture them _themselves._ They weren't supposed to be like the Orphanage Headmaster.

Chuuya looked up from the counter and his piercing sapphire eyes locked with Atsushi's heterochromatic ones. Atsushi tried not to flinch under their fiery depths as he waited for an answer.

"I didn't know, at first," Chuuya started, clicking his tongue as he noticed the food was getting cold and moved to warm them up, "I didn't even realize that was the old boss, that was before my time there. The boss told me after Dazai showed up, demanding answers. He thought Mori sent the photos since he was the only one who knew about, you know... everything."

" _Did_ Mori have anything to do with it?" Yosano asked, anger building as she thought about the other doctor. If he had _anything_ to do with those photos... he would not enjoy what came next.

Chuuya shot her a sharp look, pursing his lips in order to hide an instinctual snarl at the implied threat to the boss as he answered, "No. He didn't. Boss was just as surprised as the rest of us at seeing the photos. I haven't even told him about the videos yet... I thought you should know first. You are the ones _watching_ _out_ for Dazai now."

At the last sentence Chuuya shot a pointed look at Kunikida as he set the last plate back on the counter, still upset at their earlier conversation. Kunikida swallowed but did not look away. He may not have been there for Dazai in the past, he may have made assumptions and accusations without knowing the full—or even really _part_ of the story—but he would rectify that, adjust his viewpoint and _not make the same mistakes again_.

He nodded stiffly at Chuuya and before anything could be said between the two, Yosano cut in.

"And where is the... the box now? I assume you have it," Yosano asked haltingly, unsure is she actually wanted to see them for herself. If Chuuya Nakahara—best martial artist, one of the five executive of the Port Mafia, and former partner of the Demon Prodigy—was this shaken by what he had seen in them, she could only _imagine_ how terrible it would be.

She had _just_ been pouring over the photos, gruesome and ghastly and grim as they were, and Yosano didn't think she was ready for more. She didn't blame Chuuya one bit for his hesitance.

"It's back at my apartment. I'll bring it over to the Agency later and then we'll see about watching the rest of those videos," as Chuuya finished speaking, a crash was heard coming from Dazai's room, followed by half-hearted grumbling, "Looks like Dazai's up."

The sound of a door opening made it's way to the kitchen and everyone's attention fell on the door as Dazai walked out. He looked even more disheveled than Chuuya. His yukata was crumpled and low on one of his shoulders, revealing his bandaged wrapped torso down to his abdomen. The wrappings had loosened a little during his sleep and seemed to be coming undone at the neck, but not enough to reveal the skin underneath. He was yawning and rubbing one of his dark-circled eyes in an attempt to banish sleep from them before noticing he had an audience of more than just Chuuya.

Dazai immediately blanched, becoming even more pale than he already was. He quickly pulled his yukata tight around his frame even though nothing was showing in the first place and rushed to the bathroom. They heard the door slam before a very audible sound of the door locking.

Chuuya let out a deep exhale, pushing Atsushi and Kyouka's respective plates in front of him. He picked up a fork and started eating, "You may as well eat that now. Dazai's not gonna come out for a long while."

Feeling suddenly out of place that it was clear there was no danger and Chuuya had agreed to bring the box to them when next they met, Yosano tapped Kunikida's shoulder and indicated towards the door. Kunikida nodded at the doctor before turning back towards back towards Chuuya.

Clearing his throat, Kunikida stated as normally as he could manage, "Well, Mr. Nakahara, seeing as you seem to have things... handled here, Doctor Yosano and I will be on our way. I leave Dazai in your care."

Kunikida bowed as rigidly and formally as possible. Chuuya waved a dismissive hand at Kunikida, attention still focused on his food, "Yeah, whatever. You do that."

Sparing one last glance for Atsushi and Kyouka as they cautiously started eating the food prepare for them by a Port Mafia Executive, Kunikida turned on his heel and let the apartment behind.

* * *

 **A/N:** For some reason, I have a hard time writing Kunikida. He is not a type of character I am used to writing but hopefully I didn't make him too out of character. Until, next time!


End file.
